


Dandelions

by EmptySurface, silenceia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Up, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Insert, Two Self-Inserts at Hogwarts, Worldbuilding, implied child neglect, magical headcanons, slightly sad backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptySurface/pseuds/EmptySurface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceia/pseuds/silenceia
Summary: Enid Prewett dreamed of becoming an animagus and studying under the greatest Transfiguration Master of her time, Minerva McGonagall. It Would Happen.Eleanor Flint was here to learn magic, play Quidditch, and eat all the food. She was also absolutely, definitely, totally, a proper Pureblood Lady.Finally having reached the auspicious age of eleven, armed with (somewhat spotty) knowledge and additional life experience (less useful than you might think), these two witches were finally going to Hogwarts.With no idea that the other actually existed.Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 130





	1. Welcome to Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! This one's been in the works for a while now. Co-written by the wonderful @EmptySurface and myself, we're each tossing a Self-Insert into the shark-infested waters of the magical world.
> 
> No sharks were harmed in the making of this fic because no sharks actually appear. (This may or may not change in the future so don't feel safe just yet.)

“Is everything ready for tomorrow, Enid?” Theodora Prewett, her mother, asked with a smile, smoothing a hand down her intensely red hair, absently attempting to neaten it. Even though they both knew it was mostly futile.

Enid would forget herself and drag her fingers through it, messing it up instantly.

Unlike her, Theodora’s hair was a dark blonde, which none of her children had inherited.

“Yes,” she said, clutching at the book in her lap.

“Don’t worry, we’ll write every week,” her father, Clarus Prewett, added his own bit. His hair was as intensely red as hers and her siblings. “And you can go to your Head of House for a Floo call if you’re feeling homesick.” He smiled faintly at her, looking… sort of proud?

Enid nodded, even though she felt the odds of that happening were very low.

She’d never been one to miss home, even before she’d been Enid.

“And your brothers will be looking out for you,” her Mum added firmly, turning to stare quite pointedly at Fabian and Gideon.

“Of course, Mum, don’t sweat it,” Gideon replied easily, barely pausing in consuming his dinner.

“It’s not like Enid will be Sorted with us, though,” Fabian said, frowning faintly. “And we’ll be busy with school.”

Theodora chuckled. “Yes, yes. Our first Prewett in Ravenclaw in two generations, won’t it be, dear?” She sent her husband a look.

Clarus hummed pensively. “Closer to two centuries, if I’m not mistaken. But Ravenclaw is a fine House. It’ll suit you, Enid.”

Yes, because of all the books. She got it.

Enid mostly pushed the food around her plate, even though Nippy - their family’s house-elf - had gone out of her way to cook one of her favourite dishes for her last night home. At least until the first school break.

Having magic and going to Hogwarts’ school of witchcraft and wizardry was absolutely _amazing_ , but she couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Other than her brothers, she wouldn’t know anyone.

There was so much to look forward to; classes, learning _actual magic_ , Transfiguration.

Potions seemed really fun and interesting, too.

But she was still nervous.

After dinner, Enid excused herself from the table and, grabbing her book, ran upstairs to her room, closing the door behind her.

She liked her room.

Three bookshelves filled to the brim with mostly Transfigurations books, and additional stacks on and around her desk, where they’d ended up since she’d run out of room.

Her wardrobe was emptier than it had ever been, certain books missing from their usual spots, and the whole basket with yarn and her knitting projects had been packed down into her school trunk.

Which was standing in the middle of the room, open and fully packed. Ready for tomorrow.

Enid exhaled slowly.

She frowned down at the book in her hands, brushing her fingers over the worn cover and walked over to the trunk to place it on top.

 _A Basic Guide to Advanced Transfigurations_ by Minerva McGonagall, had been her favourite book for years, and her actually going off to Hogwarts meant she’d be able to _meet her_. Talk to her.

Be _taught_ by her!

Enid stared at the book, mouth stretching in a small, anticipatory grin.

No matter what anyone thought or said, she was _going_ to reach her goal and become an animagus. No matter the cost, or how many hours of work she had to put in.

She was going to do it, proving to _everyone_ that she… she didn’t know.

She wanted it. More than anything.

Enid walked another turn around her room, just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, but no, she’d packed everything.

Gingerly picking up her brand new wand - well, she’d had it for a while, but her parents had only handed it over into her care this morning - nervously fingering at the almost _black_ wood. Smooth and polished, very simple in its appearance, but still looking elegant and striking.

Ebony, with a phoenix feather core, and the only part of her wand she felt actually suited her was that it was apparently very good for Transfiguration, which made her feel optimistic about the coming term.

The rest Mr. Ollivander had said about it… didn’t feel like it suited her at all.

Apparently, ebony was happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Which didn’t sound too bad, but he’d also added that, they were highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and, in his experience, the ebony wand’s perfect match was one who would hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and would not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

It sounded very grand, of course, but Enid wasn’t convinced she’d live up to the task.

If there would be a task?

She just wanted to be an animagus and study Transfiguration under Minerva McGonagall.

And Mr. Ollivander’s staring had been very unsettling.

Enid sighed, looked over her wand again and then placed it in her trunk and closed the lid. That way, she definitely wouldn’t forget it.

A knock on her door jarred her from her thoughts.

“Enid?” her Mum’s voice said from the other side. “Bedtime.”

“Okay,” Enid returned and stood up from the floor. With a deep, fortifying breath, she went to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.

Hopefully, she’d manage to fall asleep, despite the butterflies in her stomach.

The thought of leaving home was… daunting. But she was looking forward to it anyway.

She was eleven years old and a half, or maybe she was much older. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to look at it, but this was very clearly a new chapter in her life. And she was going to do her best to embrace it fully.

Uncle Ignatius had told her she’d do great.

It’d be fine.

Ravenclaw was a good House, and she _did_ love reading, learning things.

She could make friends. And she’d always loved school in the Before, she didn’t see any reason for why she wouldn’t, this time around.

Going somewhere new would be amazing. And there’d be _magic_. Everywhere.

With a nod to herself, Enid went to prepare for bed, and the sooner she fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would arrive.

-x-x-x-

The room Eleanor Flint had lived in for eleven years looked strangely empty, now that her suitcase had been packed. It wasn’t that she had _many_ personal belongings on display, but with the ones she did being packed up, it didn’t much feel like _her_ room anymore.

She supposed that was fine, since she’d spend the majority of the next seven years at a boarding school.

Wow, she couldn’t believe she was going to a _boarding school_. Eleanor was a _rich kid._

“This is so exciting!” she told the owl her mother had gifted her. The Eurasian Eagle Owl was huge and therefore a little scary, also Eleanor had been hoping to get a cat — she loved cats! — but she’d get used to him.

Holyhead Harpy gave her a haughty stare. He hadn’t quite warmed up to her yet. But he would!

Eventually.

“Would you like a treat?” she asked him in a shameless attempt at buying his affection.

If it worked, it worked! And he indulged her in letting her pet him, too, so it was clearly a win.

“I can’t believe I’m really going,” she whispered.

How fast these eleven years had passed! At times, it’d been difficult, but… it’d been good, too. Father had taken her to so many Quidditch games and broom races and she had the collection of signed memorabilia to prove it. It was a shame all of that couldn’t come with her to Hogwarts.

And she could only take one Beater bat, too! And _zero_ brooms!

It was a _travesty_!

She strode over to the cabinet and examined all that was still inside it. No, the house-elves had left all the memorabilia untouched when they packed for her stay at Hogwarts. And she had no idea where they’d stored the suitcase, so she couldn’t smuggle anything into it.

“I could, however, smuggle something under my robes,” she said to Harpy, who stared at her disapprovingly. This was his default expression and didn’t have anything to do with her plotting, she decided, and made a mental note to grab Geraldine Sorrows’ left Keeper’s glove from the Holyhead Harpies vs. the Vratsa Vultures game in 1968 tomorrow morning. “Nobody will know.”

Other than her. And Harpy.

“Don’t rat me out,” she told the owl. “I’ll give you treats. And biting the hand that feeds you is terrible business practice.”

He didn’t dignify her with a response, which was rather rude, but Eleanor magnanimously decided to overlook it. Instead, she went to the closet to check what the house-elves had actually deemed important enough to pack.

None of her clothes, apparently. She stared at the robes hanging inside. The only ones missing were the school robes they’d purchased two weeks ago.

This could have several possible explanations. One, the house-elves hated her and only packed her school robes and nothing else. It wasn’t quite as unlikely as she would have liked. Two, they hadn’t finished packing yet. Three, she was getting an entirely new wardrobe for the beginning of school.

Well, she’d find out! For better or worse. Could just ask, if she wanted to, but eh. It was just clothes. She’d be wearing her school robes all the time anyway.

“Because why put in an effort if I can look just fine wearing what everybody else does?” she asked Harpy with a conspiratory grin, and continued her inspection.

Most of her books had been packed up, she was pleased to see. The academic ones, at least. And her Quidditch magazines.

With a sigh, she let herself fall on her bed, suddenly feeling melancholic.

Tomorrow, she’d be _gone_. Finally leave the mansion. The home of her parents, Victor and Jiaying Flint, the head family of the Yorkshire branch of the Flints.

It was a strange feeling. The mansion wasn’t really _homey_ , though her room made at least a valiant attempt at it. But it _was_ the place she’d grown up in, that she’d gotten lost in countless times when she was younger.

She’d played with her brother Philip in these halls, Father had taught her how to ride a broom in the gardens, Mother taught her and Philip to speak and write in Mandarin downstairs in the library. Aunt Hel gave them countless etiquette and dance lessons.

The Flint mansion might not be homey, but it _was_ her home in this life.

She really hoped Hogwarts would be a home, too. It was supposed to, she remembered that much from the books she read such a long time ago.

A knock sounded at her door and the person behind it didn’t wait for her to call them in. Which was _rude_ , and also told her who it was.

Her brother threw open the door to her room as if he owned the place and brought with him the scent of liquor and a strangely herbal smoke. Eleanor resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose — a lady didn’t show such undignified expressions on her face, or so Aunt Hel had drilled into her.

Eleanor was no lady. What eleven-year old girl could be? But she was supposed to behave the part, and if she messed up, she’d get scolded and have to reflect on her behaviour in her room for the day.

“Our esteemed parents want to see you in Father’s office,” Philip told her mock-loftily, standing in her doorway, leaning against the door jamb like a douche.

She nodded and walked over. “When are you leaving for Durmstrang?” she asked.

“Not soon enough.” He scowled. “Hate this bloody place and the bloody people and the-”

Philip descended into dark mutters and she looked away, not letting the sting of his words show.

He was her favourite person in the world. These days, though, he was… having a bit of a rough phase. Which came with lashing out at the people around him.

Eleanor knew he cared about her, but Merlin. Ever since he started school, he’d… entered a downward spiral. Become increasingly caustic.

She walked past him. “Are you going out today?”

In his fine robes, Ravenclaw blue, for all that he’d been transferred to Durmstrang in his fourth year of Hogwarts, he certainly looked the part of a young Pureblood going somewhere fancy.

“Good luck at Hogwarts, Ellie,” he sneered. “It’ll chew you up and spit you out as exactly what you’re supposed to be. Perfect Lady on the outside, nothing but ice shards on the inside.”

“Good luck at Durmstrang,” she answered with a sigh, not commenting, and tried not to let his words affect her. “Love you, Philip.”

He didn’t reply, and she made her way down to Father’s office.

She… didn’t like this room. It always made her feel small and insignificant. But it suited Father, whom she _did_ like. Most of the time.

Tall and imposing, clad in elegant steel-grey robes, a ring on his finger announcing his status within the family. Piercing blue eyes bored into her from a face that couldn’t be called handsome, but was certainly striking.

Eleanor shared his colouring, the dark brown hair and blue eyes, but just about everything else she got from Mother, who stood beside him, as always looking as if she was a princess sprung from the pages of a Chinese fairytale.

The kind where the princess fought glorious battles and brought honour to her family.

“Eleanor,” Father said, acknowledging her.

She curtseyed. “Good evening, Father.” Then she turned to her mother and repeated the greeting in Mandarin.

Mother liked hearing the language, even though none of their family were ever invited to visit their relations in Beijing anymore. They’d gone every year until Eleanor was seven, and then never again.

Not that she was sad about not seeing those people anymore. They’d always been somewhat terrifying. Especially her grandmother.

“Tomorrow, you’re leaving for Hogwarts,” Father began. “It’s time you learned a few things.”

Eleanor straightened. “Yes, Father,” she said dutifully, trying not to sound too curious or excited. This had to be important!

And she didn’t want to mess it up!

Her parents in this life were very different from the ones she’d had before. Strict, with high expectations, but also generous with their rewards and affections if she did well.

It was because the Flints were a noble Pureblood family. And not just Pureblooded, but part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the cream of the crop in Britain’s magical society. They were rich, politically active (rather conservative, from what she understood, which was common for a Dark family) and thus, held themselves and their children to a different standard.

Mother and Father wouldn’t show their feelings openly or comfortably, but they did love Eleanor. They just showed it differently.

“We’ve informed you of our expectations regarding your academic performance,” Father continued. “You _will_ devote yourself to your studies and do your best to be an exemplary student. Everything you do reflects back on us as your parents and on the Flints as a whole, and after your brother’s… missteps, you will be under more scrutiny from the other families at Hogwarts than you otherwise would have been.”

He paused and eyed her expectantly.

“Of course, Father,” she answered determinedly, though she wasn’t too clear on what had actually happened with Philip.

“As you know, Lord Flint called me for a meeting this morning on short notice.” Father was too dignified to make a displeased face, but Eleanor could tell he was insulted, anyway. “The news he shared relates to you.”

Wait, what? Lord Flint knew she existed? Well, of course he did, but… not as a _person_. There were _quite_ a few Flint witches around. She was just one of many.

“How so?” she asked apprehensively.

“It appears-” Again, he seemed to be offended over whatever the matter was- “That Lord Black and our honoured Lord Flint have been in negotiations for some time, and recently came to an agreement.”

Eleanor stared at him cluelessly.

What was this about, now? Lord Black? As in, _the_ Lord Black? Arcturus Black? Of the House of Black? Most Noble and Ancient? Or wait, it was Most Ancient and Noble. Wasn’t it?

It wasn’t like there were any other Blacks, as far as wizards were concerned, but what could they be talking about that had to do with _her? Lord Black_ knew she existed?

“Lord Arcturus wishes to bring fresh blood to the Main Family branch of the Blacks. The marriage between Orion and Walburga is a well known… subject,” Father continued with obvious distaste, “and an accord has apparently been reached. Lord Flint offered a daughter of our Family, and seeing as you will be in the same year as the Black Heir, you will keep that in mind, Eleanor.”

All etiquette lessons deserted her in that moment, and she sputtered. “What? Is this a joke?”

“One wonders,” Mother drawled, hip leaning against Father’s ornate chair. “One also wonders whether you learned your manners in a barn, Eleanor.”

She winced and scrambled for something appropriate to say. “I’m sorry. It- you took me by surprise.”

To put it _mildly_. She was _eleven!_

“It’s important to keep your wits about you even in the face of a surprise,” Father pointed out. “And Lord Black should be so lucky to have his heir marry you one day. We’ll see how the boy shapes up over the next few years.”

“Feel free to test his suitability as you see fit, Eleanor,” Mother added, clearly amused.

And what was _that_ supposed to mean?!

“I’m _eleven_ ,” Eleanor pointed out incredulously, again forgetting her manners, but it went ignored this time.

“And in a rather advantageous position, compared to other Flint daughters,” Father answered, unfortunately missing her point. “Being both close in age to the boy and attending the same school as him.”

She opened her mouth and closed it, a detail of what he’d said snagging her attention. “The other Flint daughters?”

“The Blacks reserve the right to choose among you,” Mother said. “It’s all rather medieval. Quite presumptuous of them. But of course we all know they think themselves better than everybody.”

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s…” Eleanor said blankly and couldn’t come up with a suitable adjective. “Something.”

“We shall see how this develops,” Father said. “But we won’t grovel. They’re _lucky_ to have made this agreement. The Blacks certainly aren’t what they used to be.” He scoffed, before he fixed her with a look. “That said, this could be a good match for you, Eleanor. If they prove themselves, and young Sirius is to your liking, this will be an advantageous opportunity for the family.”

“I…” She swallowed heavily, feeling strangely unbalanced. “I’ll… do my best.”

Surely nothing would come of it. This was _ridiculous_.

And she had no idea what ‘doing her best’ meant in this case! Was she supposed to… flirt? Or something?

“We expect you to be Sorted into Slytherin,” Father told her, as if he’d read her mind. “You will _not_ be pandering to the Black Heir or fawn or any such foolish things. You’re a Flint, and you’ll act like one. But making a connection between House mates would be perfectly acceptable and most likely wise.”

Great, that cleared it up. No flirting.

How she was supposed to get into Slytherin, though, she didn’t know. She didn’t feel very Slytherin.

Maybe if she asked the Hat nicely?

Didn’t Sirius Black end up in Gryffindor, though? She’d seen him from afar a few times in this life, but it wasn’t like he’d been showing much of his personality, what with his parents hovering nearby. So she hadn’t been able to tell what House suited him best.

“That will be all, Eleanor,” Father said. “You may retire to your room. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Father, Mother.” She hesitated. “I was hoping I could go fly a little. Since I’m not allowed to bring my broom to school this year.”

“I suppose there’s no harm. But don’t stay out too long,” Father allowed it with a nod. “Enjoy yourself.”

“And make sure to take your scarf. It’s chilly today,” Mother advised. “You wouldn’t want to have a runny nose when you make your Hogwarts debut.”

Eleanor nodded, perking up. “I will, thank you! I hope you have a good evening as well!”

Father waved her off, and she left his office and hurried back to her room to grab her flying gear.

For the next few hours, she thought determinedly, she’d put all the weird stuff out of her mind and just enjoy what little time she had left with her broom.

She’d decide what to do about everything later.

-x-x-x-

Somehow, in all of Eleanor’s fantasies, she hadn’t really considered _how_ to actually get to the school. Those fantasies mostly went something like, leave home, apply concept of Hogwarts Express, _zshoom_ , teleported into the castle, commence Feast.

Standing on platform 9 ¾ now, Eleanor felt _really_ overwhelmed.

The concept of the Hogwarts Express was a lot bigger, louder and _crowdier_ in reality. Diagon Alley had been less crowded! Though her parents had only taken her there once this year, and that was before the previous school year even let out. All her school supplies had been owl-ordered.

The point was, she’d never been in a crowd like this, or at least not in the ten years she’d been _Eleanor_ , and she was very small, there was a lot of yelling, owls and cats were screeching, and she felt somewhat sick in the face of it all.

“Go on, then,” Father told her. Clad in severe black robes, he cut an impressive figure, which prevented people from pressing too close to him. Eleanor stuck to his side.

Mother would have teased her for it, but she’d opted to… do something else, Eleanor hadn’t paid attention at breakfast, just nodded and then realised she’d missed something.

Now that she was here, she could understand why Mother hadn’t wanted to come.

She swallowed.

Alright. She was technically an adult. She could do this!

Morgana’s fancy eyebrows, she might need her beater’s bat to get through this crowd.

“You’ll want to get a compartment early,” Father said pointedly. “It’s just a train, Eleanor. It may be muggle… transportation, but I assure you, there’s enough magic involved to make the matter moot. It’s perfectly safe.” He paused. “This dawdling is unbecoming.” He eyed her consideringly. “There are many children from good families joining your year, you won’t have a shortage of friends.”

Eleanor managed a smile. Father was trying to reassure her, in his own way. “I’ll be off, then.”

She only just stopped herself from doing something foolish, like trying to hug him.

“We expect your letter by no later than Sunday.” Father squeezed her shoulder briefly, which was as paternal as he got in public. “Go now. This will be an important year for your growth as a witch. You’re no longer a child.”

What a weird thing to say. Oh well.

Magical society was weird in general.

“I’ll see you in winter, then,” she answered with growing trepidation. She’d never been away from home for that long without having one of her parents with her. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Eleanor.” He gave her a little push, and she steeled herself and went.

A few steps later she turned to look back, only to see him already heading for the Floo exits, cutting through the crowd easily. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit abandoned.

Well. There was no going back now.

Falling back on decades of train-riding expertise, Eleanor surveyed the platform as best as she could with her lack of height. The crowd was, predictably, the worst closest to the platform entrances because most people didn’t want to bother walking all the way to the end with all their luggage in tow.

Eleanor made her way to the edge to the crowd, getting elbowed twice and nearly tripping once (she spitefully rammed her shoulder in someone’s side and scurried away quickly afterwards), and then carried her suitcase and owl cage to the far end of the station where only few students boarded the train.

There. Stress avoided. Boarding was so much easier when she didn’t have to compete with a dozen other students who all wanted to be on the train _right now_.

The inside of the Hogwarts Express was a bit of a surprise. She’d expected a narrow corridor, but it turned out to be spacious enough that two people would have been able to walk side-by-side comfortably.

Must be room expansion charms, huh? Very neat. So long as she didn’t think about the broken laws of Physics. Eleanor didn’t actually know anything about Physics, but they were broken in this train.

Whatever. She needed a compartment, even with reduced weight her suitcase was starting to make her arms ache, and Harpy’s owl cage was _awkward_ to carry. If she felt like it, she could go explore later once she had a place to set down her luggage.

Merlin, was she glad to be on the far end of the train, it seemed to be _chaos_ in the distance. Why were kids so _loud?_ And running on trains was such bad manners! Yikes.

Even here, just about all the compartments seemed to be occupied, by older students no less, so eventually Eleanor turned around to head towards the yelling.

“Next compartment with kids my age,” she promised Harpy, who was glowering indignantly at her. Not that she blamed him, if she were the one being lugged around in a cage during a time she should be sleeping, she’d be unhappy, too. “Then we can sit and you’ll be able to sleep.”

Harpy kept glaring. It was his default expression, but right now, it seemed she had personally offended him.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You can fly next time, okay? But I have to take you like this today since it’s really far and you haven’t been a post owl for long yet.”

Her owl did not look mollified in the least. She’d have to make sure to spoil him with lots of treats.

A short distance further, a girl with dark red hair was about to go into a compartment. She was short, already wore her uniform, and looked small enough to be a fellow first year! And she appeared to be struggling with her suitcase, which seemed to be half-stuck on the door.

This was Eleanor’s opportunity! She hurried up to the redhead. “Hello, here, let me help with that-”

“I don’t need help!” The girl’s voice was shrill, and she hiccuped.

Oh snap, she was crying.

“That’s, uh-” Thrown, Eleanor fumbled for something to say. “I’ll just-”

The girl managed to yank her suitcase free and disappeared into the compartment. The door slammed shut behind her, almost clipping Eleanor’s nose.

She could hear her sobbing from inside, and she hadn’t pulled down the privacy blinds, which was… awkward, and she slowly retreated.

Right. Not touching that. She’d clearly intruded on a moment.

It must be hard for some kids to leave their homes for boarding school.

Still cringing at her blunder, Eleanor made her way further down the hallway, even more disheartened now. “Okay, but that wasn’t my fault,” she muttered to Harpy while trying not to think about all the ways she could have handled that better and what she could have said to comfort the poor girl.

Morgana, why had she been so optimistic about being in a school full of kids?

She walked past more compartments and dismissed them all for some reason or another. That one was full already, the next had an older student in it, there was a rampaging owl, someone was sleeping, this one did have First Years but it was pretty much full and they were obviously having a great time, it’d be _awkward-_

“Well, there have got to be empty compartments further down!” a voice ahead claimed cheerfully. “I can’t believe those guys wouldn’t let us in, though!”

Two boys appeared to have been rejected from joining a compartment. Eleanor could sympathise.

Hm, if they were coming from the front of the train, didn’t that mean that everywhere in that direction was full? Then she might have to join the crying girl from earlier, after all.

Or just sit with older students.

Well, she should ask the boys first. The one who’d spoken before was chattering a mile a minute, clearly beyond excited to be here. Number Two looked a little dazed, but in a happy way.

Planning what she’d say, Eleanor walked in their direction, but something made her pause.

Chatty boy looked oddly familiar. Where had she seen him before… hold on. Messy black hair, glasses, fancy robes worn in a casual way-

No, she hadn’t seen _him_ , she’d seen his father in the newspaper a while back, and Father had ranted about him so much. Lord Fleamont Potter, Father’s hated school-yard rival, he’d even lost a duel against the man once and never forgiven him for it.

They’d continued to be on opposing sides even after graduating school. Clashing political stances, avoiding a blood feud by a hair- when Father started ranting about Lord Potter, Eleanor would flee the room as soon as she could.

And across from her was his son, James Potter.

Eleanor turned on the spot, yanked open the closest compartment door and hurried inside.

The conversation in the compartment died. It was the one full of First Years, and yes, this was as awkward as she thought it’d be when she decided against asking for room to join.

“Oh, hello!” a blonde girl overcame the surprise first. Her words were tinged with a slight accent. Spanish? Italian? “Are you First Year, too? Do you want to sit with us?”

Oh, thank Merlin. Eleanor nodded quickly. “I’m sorry, everywhere else is full,” she apologised for intruding.

This compartment was full, too, but she was not setting foot outside for the next few hours.

“Here, let me help,” another girl offered and manoeuvred Eleanor’s suitcase up onto the luggage rack. “I’m Marlene McKinnon.”

“I’m Graziella,” the blonde from before continued the introduction and held out her hands for Eleanor’s owl cage so she could take off her summer coat. “Zabini. Oh, what a handsome owl,” she cooed.

Harpy looked slightly less pissed.

“Eleanor Flint,” Eleanor offered, still feeling beyond awkward.

The other occupants introduced themselves as well, and Eleanor forgot most of their names in the span of the next two minutes. She wasn’t great with names and everyone chattered so much.

But she wasn’t about to complain. They were nice, and she liked listening to everyone getting to know each other. They even included her from time to time.

This really wasn’t so bad.

-x-x-x-

Enid stared up at the head of the Hall, at the raised dais where a kid was currently being Sorted, not sure what she was feeling.

Okay, not true.

She was feeling very small - everyone else was almost a _head_ taller than her, and that was among the other First Years - alone, and strangely terrified, even though she rationally knew there was no need to be.

The Hogwarts Great Hall was _huge,_ though, and there were so many people…

Enid knew no one was staring at her in particular, but it still made her want to try and hide. Curse her red hair for being so eye-catching, but at least she wasn’t the only redhead.

A girl with even darker red hair had already been sorted into Gryffindor, and before Min- Professor McGonagall had called her name, Enid had assumed she was a Weasley.

She had to remember to call all the teachers ‘Professor’. Or things would get awkward.

Fabian and Gideon were sitting at the Gryffindor table already, and she knew that if she looked over there, they’d probably wave at her.

Molly had been in Gryffindor, too, before she graduated. And their parents had been in the same House, back when _they’d_ gone to school.

Enid knew her family were banking on her being sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor, and she wasn’t upset about that particular assumption, exactly, but...

She didn’t feel like a Gryffindor, but she wasn’t sure she’d fit into Ravenclaw, either.

Ravenclaws were supposed to love learning and knowledge above everything else, weren’t they? Be studious to the point of distraction?

Enid wasn’t a slouch when it came to studying - all her books were well-used and well-loved and had been her greatest companions since she’d been four - but… she wasn’t sure she’d fit in.

No matter what happened, the Sorting Hat would hopefully know what it was doing and place her in whichever House suited her best. It knew what it was doing.

Right?

Either way, it clearly wasn’t up to her.

Enid nervously waited for her turn to be Sorted, glancing over at her brothers every now and then, and their presence was strangely reassuring.

If they hadn’t been here, then there wouldn’t have been _anyone_ she knew.

“Prewett, Enid!” Minerva finally called out up ahead, and Enid snapped out of her thoughts to take a deep, bracing breath and dutifully walk up and sit on the stool.

Facing the rest of the student body didn’t make her feel any better, and people were _definitely_ staring at her now.

Enid’s grip on the stool was possibly white-knuckled, and she felt pale.

When the Hat sank down over her eyes, it was with a sense of overwhelming relief.

“Let’s see,” a thin, faint voice whispered in her ear. “Oh my, there’s a lot here. A very interesting young woman, I say,” the hat murmured at her and Enid blinked.

Huh.

Right. Magical hat, reading her mind.

She’d known about it, of course, but it still felt strange to have a bodiless voice whisper at her. About the things it - he? - could see in her head. Reading her mind?

The Hat chuckled softly. “Not to worry, not to worry. Now, where to place you? Hm. Your family certainly have their expectations, but you have doubts. There’s definitely ambition here, perhaps Slytherin would nurture it in you? But while there’s plenty of cleverness and intelligence, cunning isn’t something you value highly.” There was a short pause. “Hard work, my goodness, you’ve shown proof of that in spades already.” It hummed quietly under its breath. “A sharp mind, to be sure. Ravenclaw might be a splendid home for a witch like you. They’ll appreciate and nurture your love of books.”

Despite everything it was saying, Enid couldn’t help but wonder if it was rude to think of a hat as an it?

“Ravenclaws can get overzealous, and they’re fond of debate. What you need to truly flourish,” the hat finally said, after some clear deliberation, and she’d been sitting here for at least a couple of minutes now, “is a caring and peaceful environment to call home. It’s clear to me that you’ll need to go to no other House than HUFFLEPUFF!”

It called out the last word for the whole Hall to hear, and then the hat was lifted off her head.

Enid squinted against the suddenly bright light and took in the polite - if slightly half-hearted - clapping from the Hufflepuff table, and got up and walked over. Decidedly not looking at the rest of the Hall.

Doing her best not to feel awkward, and once she’d sat down, she looked around at the other children that had been Sorted here before her. Six boys and three other girls, and not everyone had been Sorted yet.

A ‘Potter, James’ had already been called up to the stool after her.

She took a deep breath, turned to look at the Gryffindor table and waved tentatively at Fabian and Gideon, who were staring in her direction, whispering to each other, by the looks of things.

Fabian grinned and waved back, then elbowed Gideon very blatantly in the side until he waved, too.

Right.

Enid turned back to her table, pursing her lips a bit, trying not to smile.

She was one step closer to starting lessons, and she supposed Hufflepuff would give her the same advantage as any other House.

When would they get their schedules? She wanted to know when her first Transfiguration lesson would be, she could hardly wait!

-x-x-x-

Eleanor watched the Sorting, her face kept in what she hoped was an impassive expression. Her name starting with an F, she’d been early to be Sorted.

Slytherin. Like Father had wanted.

He’d be pleased. She’d send a letter home first thing tomorrow to let her parents know.

She wouldn’t call _herself_ especially happy about her Sorting, but she was definitely relieved not to have disappointed her parents. Flints tended to be Slytherins, with the odd Ravenclaw here and there, and she thought there might have been the _very_ rare Gryffindor. And possibly the occasional Hufflepuff, but nobody would really talk about those.

So all over the place.

Anyway, Eleanor was somewhat baffled she’d actually ended up in Slytherin without having to explicitly ask the Hat. It wasn’t a House she’d seen herself in. Not that she’d seen herself _anywhere_. She didn’t really have any outstanding qualities or personality traits.

Eleanor had figured that she’d be Sorted into Ravenclaw, given that she liked to read and she’d never considered herself especially ambitious or cunning.

But it turned out that, according to the Hat, at least, she _did_ have ambition.

Some of it, at least? Not an ambition to do a specific thing, just a general drive to do well and live a decent life. And apparently she wasn’t _not_ cunning.

The Hat had worded it nicely, at least, but he’d seemed kind of undecided and then figured he might as well send her where her family wanted.

That was fine, she figured? It was only seven years of school, anyway, after that it wouldn’t really matter much.

She’d just do her thing. Eleanor was here to learn _magic_ and play Quidditch. Which was going to be _awesome_.

The Sorting was slowly drawing to a close. There were only a few kids left now. The Slytherins around her were paying close attention to all of it, and some placements caused whispers, others approving nods.

It wasn’t just the Slytherins who did that, though, as evidenced by the outrage Sirius Black going to Gryffindor — her hunch had been right about that one — had caused in all Houses. James Potter, who’d also gone to Gryffindor just now, had highfived him.

Good for them, and good for her. They were _far_ away from her now, and hopefully she wouldn’t have to bother with either of them.

For now, though, Eleanor put all that out of her mind. She was _finally_ at Hogwarts.

Away from home.

She loved her parents and brother, she did, but Morgana help her, she’d wanted to see more of the world for _ages._ The chance to spread her wings, meet new people, learn new things. Read all the books, fly in new places, just… be less sheltered?

She was going to learn _magic_. Swing her wand, utter a word, and something would _happen!_

Eleanor couldn’t _wait_ to learn all the spells.

The Sorting concluded after a few more names. Of them, Rosier and Smith went to Slytherin.

Didn’t Smiths usually go to Hufflepuff, though? Maybe he wasn’t one of _those_ Smiths, it was a common name, after all.

Another name also drew her attention.

 _Snape, Severus_ , caused her a sort of distant dislike. She didn’t remember all that much detail from the Story after so many years, it’d taken ages for her to even _realise_ that she’d somehow ended up in it, so all the names and events were confused. But the name Snape rang a bell, and not in a good way.

Well, she’d steer clear of him. Going by the unkempt air of him and his ill-fitting robes, her family wouldn’t approve of him anyway. She wasn’t supposed to make friends with people so far below her station.

The Sorting finally wrapped up with Graziella Zabini from her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Another Slytherin, and Eleanor was relieved that she might have a tentative friend in her House now. That was nice!

The Headmaster stood up to get everyone’s attention.

“To new pupils, welcome to Hogwarts! And to everyone else, welcome back!” Albus Dumbledore greeted them with a warm smile, white beard long enough to reach his belt and then some and half-moon spectacles glinting on his crooked nose. “Let’s enjoy a breathtaking dinner together!” He clapped his hands, and that had to be a signal to the house-elves, because the tables were covered, from one moment to the next, in a staggering amount of food.

Eleanor blinked at the selection. Oh, this all looked _so good_ , and there was more variation than she’d expected. Quite a few exotic dishes breaking up the landscape of traditional British fare.

Aunt Hel liked to say that everything Eleanor did, even her food selections, reflected on her family and upbringing, but come on. It was just food! They couldn’t expect her to just stick to boring choices, she wanted to try _everything_.

Nobody was going to write home about what she _ate_. That was ridiculous. Who’d fit that into their letter when the Sorting had just happened? Ha.

Sitting with perfect posture and handling her fork with care, Eleanour dug in, and the food tasted even better than it looked.

-x-x-x-

Once the Welcome Feast had come to a close, all the Hufflepuff First Years were rounded up by a couple of what she supposed were Prefects and marched off to the Hufflepuff common room.

Which was located in the dungeon not too far from the Entrance Hall.

Enid peered curiously at the large painting of a fruit bowl hanging on one wall in the stone corridor, the sight of the overflowing fruit tickling some kind of memory she couldn’t put a finger on.

Doing her best to memorise the twists and turns, they finally slowed to a stop in front of the statue of an old and bent witch, supporting most of her weight on a staff.

“Alright, listen up, everyone!” the girl Prefect said, getting their attention. “This is the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, if you can’t remember the way, please accompany any of the older students to the Great Hall tomorrow morning, and try not to wander.” She paused and looked them all over. “I want you to step forward one by one and introduce yourselves to Bafalda.”

“To who?” one of the boys asked, looking confused.

The Prefect smiled wryly and patted the weathered old witch statue on a stooped shoulder. “This here is Bafalda Bones. She lived in the fourteenth century, and if you’d like to read up on her life, there are several books in the Library dealing with the subject. Now, you, come up here and introduce yourself,” she said, directing the last bit at the boy that had spoken up.

He swallowed audibly andwalked to the front of the group, eyeing the statue like he expected it to whack him with its staff.

When he was standing right in front of it, the statue blinked and smiled at him. “Oh? A First Year?” she asked, in a gravelly voice. The boy nodded nervously. “Wonderful,” the old witch said, smile widening. “What’s your name, boy?”

He stammered through his answer - Langdon Fenn - and then stepped aside to give room to the next one.

Enid stared at the statue, marvelling over how lifelike her expressions were, and there must be some truly amazing magic involved.

She definitely _seemed_ sentient.

Was it magic similar to portraits?

“And you, young Miss? What’s your name?” the statue of Bafalda Bones asked kindly, and Enid abruptly realised it was her turn, having shuffled forward automatically.

She cleared her throat. “Enid Prewett,” she said.

“Wonderful. Welcome, welcome, dear,” the statue said with another wrinkly smile.

There were two more children after Enid, and then they were finally done.

She only belatedly realised she hadn’t gotten anyone’s names. Or she had instantly forgotten them.

“That was all?” the statue asked, turning to eye the Prefects, who nodded. “Very well,” Bafalda said, and used her staff to press a specific section of stone behind her. A second later, a piece of wall opened inward to reveal a hidden passage.

“There we go, come on, children!” the male Prefect said briskly and led the way inside.

Enid stared at the statue - Bafalda - as she walked past her and smiled a little when she winked at her.

The girl beside her sighed, looking vaguely embarrassed.

The Hufflepuff common room was surprisingly airy for a room that no doubt resided underground. The windows high up on the walls had to be magical, and showed a view of the grounds.

There were a multitude of sofas and armchairs, but also study tables and… were those beanie bags?

Enid peered curiously at them, and she was _pretty sure_ that was what they were called.

“Girls with me!”

“And boys with me!”

They split off in two groups and Enid, along with the rest of the girls, trooped after the girl Prefect.

She _had_ introduced herself, but Enid had already forgotten her name. She was terrible with names.

“Right, here’s your room. Your trunks will already be there, so don’t even bother trying to fight over the beds,” Prefect girl said briskly, looking rather done with all of this. “It’s late, and you should all go to bed. Classes start tomorrow, and we’ll all gather in the common room tomorrow at seven thirty to walk you lot to breakfast. Any questions?”

Enid glanced around at the other girls, but no one said anything.

“Great,” Prefect girl said and gestured at them to get moving.

Enid followed the girl in front of her into their dorm room, and she found herself staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

It was a very small dome, their room. Circular, four beds placed out at even intervals and all it took was a quick look to spot her trunk, resting at the foot end of one of the beds.

Enid walked over to it with a small sigh, more than ready to go to bed.

The other three girls located their own beds, and then there was a scramble for the bathroom, which turned out to be similarly styled and looked rather nice for a school bathroom in Enid’s humble opinion.

She’d seen and had had to live with worse, once upon a time, that was for sure.

Opening her trunk, the first thing she spotted was her wand.

“Oh, right,” she muttered, picking it up and went to put it on her nightstand table. That way, it’d be the first thing she saw when she woke up.

“Hi,” her bed neighbour said abruptly. “We should introduce ourselves properly. I’m Amelia Bones.”

Enid blinked owlishly at her, then looked around, but she was definitely talking to her. “Oh, um. Enid Prewett. Nice to meet you,” she offered back, clearing her throat and shaking the hand Amelia held out towards her.

“Bones? Like the statue?” one of the other girls asked, wrinkling her nose. “I’m Beth Taylor, and this is Camille Hoggart!” she introduced herself and the last girl cheerfully. “We’ve been friends for forever, and I’m so happy we’re in the same House!” She beamed over at her friend.

“...nice to meet you,” Enid repeated, feeling more awkward than usual.

Amelia Bones echoed her with a nod, grabbed her toothbrush and headed for the bathroom.

Enid decided to follow her lead and _didn’t_ flee the room, thank you.

She was tired, and classes started tomorrow!

-x-x-x-

Eleanor’s first impression of the Slytherin girl’s dorms was rather underwhelming, and she knew she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time here. The same went for the common room.

Neither were particularly comfortable. Whoever had done the decor had clearly gone for class and style rather than comfort.

It was kept in dark, muted colours, mostly green, with the occasional shine of silver high-lights.

Lots of velvet.

Not ugly, but it really wasn’t how she would have furnished and decorated it. Though she wouldn’t _say_ such a thing. This _was_ to be her home for the next seven years, outside of the holidays.

The first spell she’d look up — that hadn’t been in her school books, anyway — would be a warming charm, she decided. This part of the castle just felt _chilly_ , which was probably because of it being located so close to the lake. And also part of the dungeons.

“I want this bed!” one of her new dormmates declared, pointing at one of the canopy beds. Eleanor didn’t know why she’d set her heart on that one especially and she didn’t care, either, except it was her own trunk next to it.

“The beds are assigned,” she said. “You’ll have to ask a Prefect if it's possible to switch so simply. They have security charms keyed to each of us.”

At least, she thought so.

She’d only skimmed that part of _Hogwarts, A History_. The book had _much_ more interesting sections than the particulars of school dorms.

The girl huffed at her. “You go ask.”

“No.” Eleanor walked over to the bed and sat down on it.

Oh, it was _much_ more comfortable than it looked. And she imagined that once she pulled the drapes shut, it’d be like her own tent. So nice. Private.

“Excuse me?” The girl stomped her foot, looking like she’d never heard the word ‘no’ before in her life. “Do you know who I am?”

Another girl next to her — blond hair in ringlets, eyes a rather watery grey — frowned at Eleanor. Clearly, they were friends or at least acquaintances.

“You haven’t introduced yourself,” Eleanor pointed out, raising a brow at her.

Normally she hated confrontations, but this was… too ridiculous to count as one.

“Well, why should I?” the girl asked with a sniff and flicked her black hair back over her shoulder. “Didn’t you pay attention to the Sorting? And I assumed everyone who was anyone knew who I am.” She eyed Eleanor with a mean little smile. “I know who _you_ are. Eleanor Flint, from a small branch several times removed from the main family. You hardly count as a Pureblood, what with that mother of yours. _My_ Mother always says the Families from outside of England are _lesser_ than us.”

Clearly she didn’t know Eleanor’s mother was a former Duelling champion, and that their branch of the Flints might be small, but it wasn’t _minor._ And Father was its head.

“I’ll let Mother know you said so,” Eleanor answered blandly.“Your bed's over there.”

The luggage had the same colour accents as the jewelry the girl wore. Points for coordination efforts, that really was impressive.

“But I don’t _want_ that bed,” the girl snapped. “It’s right next to the bathroom!”

Eleanor shrugged. “That’s no concern of mine.”

“Fine,” the girl said, sounding like that one word was like pulling teeth. “You, go find a Prefect,” she said next, turning to one of the other girls.

Predictable.

Here was hoping this spoiled brat would grow up sometime in the next seven years.

The girl she’d chosen to target next froze, then hurriedly fled into the bathroom without a word.

Entitled little Pureblood princess made an outraged sound and stomped her foot again and everything. “This is unacceptable! I’m writing to my parents about this!” she hissed under her breath, furious, before she stomped out of the room. Presumably to go find a Prefect herself.

“Now see what you’ve done,” her friend sighed irritably, sending Eleanor a look that made it more than clear who she was blaming.

A giggle sounded from one of the other two girls. Not the Patil, but Zabini from the train. “Well, I’d say Miss Flint didn’t do _anything_.”

Ha, nice. Eleanor liked her even better now.

“This isn’t a joking matter.” The girl crossed her arms. “Do _none_ of you know who she is?”

Zabini smiled at her disarmingly. “Oh, of course not. I’m only Italian, you see, though I hear your friend say my thousand year lineage doesn’t count. What are your thoughts on this, Miss Patil?”

Patil only eyed the haughty girl before she turned away with a motion that could only be called disdainful, her long black braid swaying.

Drama on the first evening. They were all clearly off to a great start.

Zabini proceeded to ignore the drama and all but skipped over to the bed next to Eleanor’s. “Graziella Zabini,” she introduced herself again with a smile. “We sat together on the train! It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Flint. I hope we get along well in the future.”

Eleanor gave her a small smile back. “So do I. I’m Eleanor Flint.” Wait, she’d already known that.

It’d be good to have a friend here. Evidently, it was needed.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Zabini,” she added. “I look forward to spending time with you.”

“And I shall look forward to getting to know you better,” Zabini said with a smile.

Eleanor smiled back before she gathered her toiletries from her suitcase and went to the bathroom. It’d been a long day and that bed was so comfortable. She wanted to sleep.

She’d forgotten about the girl who’d hidden in here from their prissy dorm mate. Another unfamiliar face, and one that looked momentarily terrified when she entered.

“Are you quite alright?” Eleanor asked cautiously.

In a different life, she’d have tried to comfort the girl. Set her at ease, try to help.

But they were in Slytherin now, and Aunt Hel would have had some choice words to say if Eleanor acted that familiar with someone whose last name she didn’t even know. It could get her in so much trouble.

This girl also very obviously didn’t have the same upbringing that she and the others did. Which implied a lack of status, and Eleanor had been told in no uncertain terms not to interact with people below a certain threshold unless circumstances forced her to.

“I didn’t expect _Slytherin_!” the girl blurted, and then promptly flushed red.

“You’ll get used to it,” Eleanor answered in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. “Nothing stops you from making friends outside the House, either. It’ll be alright.”

That was all the help and comfort she could offer. She’d probably stretched the limit of what she was allowed already, but nobody would know. Silently apologising, Eleanor turned and walked over to a shower stall.

She was definitely ready for this day to be over.

-x-x-x-

The first few days of school were a constant rush of new impressions, with hoards of people constantly around, and Enid had more than her hands full dealing with all of it.

She stuck close to her fellow Huflepuff girls, even though Beth and Camilla very obviously had known each other for years, like Beth had told them, and Amelia kept to herself.

At least Amelia didn’t mind her sitting beside her in class, which was a relief.

Classes were amazing.

Charms was interesting - even though they’d covered nothing but theory so far - and Flitwick seemed very kind. He was also possibly the only human being in the castle shorter than her.

Enid was most of all looking forward to Friday, which was when she was scheduled to have her very first Transfiguration lesson. With a Master!

Minerva McGonagall was highly accredited in the field and Enid had read, in addition to her published books, several of her articles in Transfiguration Today.

So after lunch on her third day in the castle, Enid made sure to leave the Great Hall with a lot of time to spare, found her way to the correct classroom, not minding in the least that Amelia, Beth and Camilla had tagged along.

She just wanted a good seat in the first row.

Amelia Bones sat down beside her, getting out her Transfigurations book, quill and parchment, making herself ready for the lesson, and then started reading over the first chapter while they waited.

Out of the three girls she was rooming with, Enid imagined Amelia might become an actual friend.

Beth and Camilla seemed nice enough, but were a bit too… giggly, and overwhelming. Always talking and asking things, and they were already such close friends that she doubted anyone else could ever hope to join in. They were perfectly normal kids, and nice, just a bit much.

Transfiguration held most of her focus, anyway.

Their Gryffindor yearmates, who they were sharing this class with, arrived in twos and threes, a pair of boys literally _falling_ through the door and cutting it rather close when it came to time, but that was fine.

Enid was too excited to care, she felt like she could barely sit still.

McGonagall corralled the class with ease, and Enid didn’t even mind all that much when it turned out the lesson was completely and utterly basic. Like every other class they’d had so far.

It wasn’t unexpected, and she could wait, even though she’d covered all of this before she’d turned five.

It was still a new experience to listen to a lecture about these things, instead of reading about them in a book, by herself.

Enid listened raptly, for two hours hanging onto every word.

“Aren’t you taking notes?” Amelia whispered at her, at some point, not taking her eyes off of her own note-taking.

“No,” Enid whispered back. She had no idea how to take notes, she knew from experience, and if she tried anyway, she generally never managed to retain anything of what was said.

When the lesson was over and professor McGonagall dismissed them, Enid stayed behind, the butterflies back in her stomach.

“Yes, Miss Prewett?” McGonagall asked, the moment she noticed she wasn’t leaving.

Enid took a deep breath, got up and walked up to the woman’s desk. “I want to become an animagus like you, Professor, is there any reading you can recommend?” she asked, the words she’d been running through her head since she first knew she’d come here for school bursting from her mouth all at once.

She’d waited _years_ to say them!

Enid stared up at the woman, feeling her face grow hot, but they were out now.

McGonagall blinked slowly and then eyed her rather sharply. “That’s a difficult and dangerous branch of Transfiguration,” she commented neutrally. “And quite a few levels over what you will be studying this year.”

“I know, professor,” Enid said, nodding because she _did_ know that. “I’m going to be reading ahead, though.”

That earned her a wryly amused look. “Very well,” McGonagall sighed, looking like she was indulging her. “The Basics of Advanced Transfigurations is a good place to start, then.”

Enid couldn’t help the way she drooped, trying her best not to pout. “I’ve read that already, professor.” Of course she’d read it! It was Minerva McGonagall’s book! “It’s a very interesting read, I brought my own copy, and I’ve read everything else I’ve managed to get my hands on. My uncle gives me new ones, every now and then.” She was pretty sure Uncle Ignatius found her highly specialised interest to be amusing. “But I was hoping you’d be able to direct me to something more specifically helpful, ma’am.”

She stared hopefully at McGonagall, who was staring at her right back. She’d remembered her manners and everything!

Amelia was waiting just outside the door, and she was eyeing her curiously.

She looked like she’d have several questions for her after this, but Enid didn’t mind.

“I see,” McGonagall said slowly, eyeing her consideringly even as she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. Quickly and efficiently wrote down several things. “Then take this, and work your way through it and let me know when you’re done,” she directed, handing the note over.

Enid took it eagerly and read over the list of book titles, a thrill of excitement swooping through her stomach, replacing the butterflies.

Okay, two of them she could cross off already, but that still left her with _eight_ books to read and study! New books! Eight of them!

She’d heard of three of them, mostly referenced by other authors.

“Thank you, Professor!” she chirped, too excited to contain herself, raising her head to beam at the woman.

“I don’t want to hear from your other professors that you’re letting your studies suffer due to your extracurricular interests, Miss Prewett,” McGonagall returned sternly.

“I’ll do my best,” Enid promised quickly, stuffing the note into her book bag, where it’d be safe until she could run off to the Library to get started. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” McGonagall said dryly. “Now run along, we both have things we should be doing.”

Enid nodded, turned on the spot and more or less bounced out of the room, grinning happily at Amelia when she fixed her with a curious look.

“What was that about?” the girl asked, and she eyed her semi-expectantly, seemingly not minding that they’d been left behind by the rest of their classmates.

Enid took a deep breath, and then eagerly launched into an explanation on animagi and everything she knew about the subject.

Talking more than she had in all the other days put together.

But she hadn’t had anyone to talk about this with in years! Fabian and Gideon always got this glassy look in their eyes, when she talked too much about Transfiguration, especially if she accidentally slipped into the more technical aspects of the subject.

Molly only smiled indulgently at her, and she definitely tried to listen, but she’d been too busy with teenager things for the last few years to spend a lot of time with her baby sister. Not to mention she’d been at Hogwarts for most of Enid’s childhood.

Or out and about, whenever Hogwarts wasn’t in session.

Amelia’s eyes were slowly widening, but she was _listening_ to the veritable avalanche of words making their way out of Enid’s mouth, and that was already enough for her to consider Amelia her friend, from now on.

This had all gone much better than she had hoped, Enid decided, tentatively hooking her arm with Amelia’s as she explained the theory behind the transfiguration of one material to another, seeing as that was what they’d be starting with the next lesson.

The fact she accidentally slipped into animate to animate transfiguration wasn’t on purpose, but Amelia was _listening_ to her.

Transfiguration was her favourite subject and so incredibly interesting, and she’d get to study it properly twice a week!

Enid’s cheeks hurt from grinning and talking at the same time, but she didn’t care.

Amelia tentatively smiled back.


	2. Into The Deep End

Lessons began the day after the Welcoming Feast. The first week was a short one, only Thursday and Friday left to fill with lessons.

Beginning on a low note, History was the most boring hour Eleanor had ever experienced in this life, and she found her attention drifting five minutes into it. Zabini next to her appeared to be in the same boat.

Maybe she could read her Charms book in preparation for the next class?

But she didn’t know yet how much attention Professor Binns paid his students.

No, she’d just have to sit through it.

Charms completely made up for the let-down History had been. The lesson’s content wasn’t anything she hadn’t read in preparation already — it was all theory. But Professor Flitwick gave the occasional demonstration, casting little charms, talking about what they’d be learning over the next five years, and he was so enthusiastic about his subject that Eleanor couldn’t help but be caught up in it.

If it kept up like this, Charms would definitely become a favourite subject.

Ah, she couldn’t wait to cast her own spells! She’d try it as soon as lessons were over for the day!

After Charms, it was time for lunch. The afternoon would be taken up by their very first Potions lesson, taught by Slytherin’s head of House, Professor Horace Slughorn.

He seemed nice enough, she supposed. From what little she’d seen of him in the Great Hall, he seemed to be one of those people who were perpetually in a chipper mood.

The problem was the subject he taught.

Or, rather, not the subject. Potions were fine. It was just following a recipe with convoluted, if very thorough, instructions.

Eleanor just couldn’t deal with some of the _ingredients_. Specifically anything of arachnid origin. Though insects were a bit of a problem, too.

All those _legs_.

Why did they _have_ to pluck the wings off themselves? Or crush the bodies? Why couldn’t they just buy the prepared parts at the apothecary? Eleanor _knew_ they were available there.

But no, Slughorn wanted them to do _every_ step of the process at least once, unless it required tools and time that wouldn’t work in a classroom setting.

Worst of all, though, Morgana damn it all, Eleanor _couldn’t_ deal with spiders. Even dead ones.

She took a deep breath, which was a mistake because these things _smelled_. Her stomach lurched.

Maybe if she didn’t look?

But she’d still _know_. And eventually, she’d still have to _touch_ it. Even knowing the things were on the table in front of her was almost too much.

Eleanor hadn’t felt this much like crying in years. And they didn’t even have to do much of anything today, were just being introduced to general types of ingredients and Slughorn demonstrated how to prepare them correctly and safely, and the easier things he had the students prepare alongside him so they wouldn’t get bored.

And yet, that was the _third_ spider Slughorn held up. Showing them how to remove the legs to get to the actual body, which was apparently the part needed in most potions. Thinly sliced. Or dried and crushed.

“We’ll dry some ingredients for practice next time,” Slughorn told them cheerfully. “I’m afraid it’ll be a few weeks before we start on actual brewing, but not to worry — this is also very interesting and a good skill to have. It’s always important to know where your ingredients come from, children! And how they’ve been prepared. You’ll thank me later.”

Great.

She looked away when he pulled another leg off. That spider was _way_ too big. The size of Slughorn’s _hand_.

Eleanor considered every spider bigger than her thumb’s nail to be _too big._

Next to her, Graziella Zabini was looking pale, too, but she was staring at a jar the teacher had shown to them before the spiders.

Jellied flobberworms.

They looked disgusting and slimy.

Eleanor felt an idea forming. If it worked, it’d be brilliant. If not, by tomorrow the whole school would probably know about her arachnophobia.

But then they’d also know about Zabini having a problem with those worms, so she was fairly sure she could avert a worst-case scenario.

“Zabini,” she muttered. “I’ll handle the worms for you if you do the spiders.”

There.

It wasn’t subtle or sophisticated, but in this instance, Eleanor felt like cutting right to the chase was smarter than hedging around.

“Anything- what is word,” Zabini breathed back, was quiet for a while. “ _Slimy_ ,” she finally hissed. “Then you have a deal, Flint.”

“Done,” she agreed immediately.

She wasn’t too fond of slimy things herself, but she’d take it over _spiders_ any day.

The lesson passed without further incident, aside from cheeky questions from _James Potter_ (whom she’d made sure to sit the furthest distance possible from), which Slughorn answered with good-natured chuckles.

Eleanor would give it to the boy of her father’s nemesis, he _was_ hilarious. And clearly knew a lot about Potions for a First Year.

Aside from that, though, it was a good day.

Friday went fine as well. Transfiguration was interesting, and afterwards they had Herbology, where Eleanor felt hopelessly lost.

At least Zabini, who partnered with her, seemed to know what she was doing. Others weren’t so lucky.

Slowly making their way back up to the castle after Herbology, they all ended up moving as a group, the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws separating into two distinct sections, and most kids were animatedly talking about the lesson.

None more loudly than Avery and Rosier.

“-can’t _believe_ you made such a mess of your Moly bush!” Avery was laughing, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Were you trying to kill it?”

“Better keep the knives away from Douglas during Potions from now on,” Rosier snickered, and Burke - the subject of their conversation - glowered at both of them.

“It’s just Herbology, no one cares about Herbology,” he said staunchly, though there was a bit of a flush to his cheeks. “And at least I did _something_ with the stupid plant. Crabbe just stared at his,” he muttered, throwing the boy beside him unceremoniously to the metaphorical wolves.

Crabbe shrugged, looking a bit awkward. He was a head taller than the rest of the boys.

“Yeah, but that’s _Crabbe_ ,” Avery said, rather meanly. He was grinning widely, looking to be having the time of his life. “I thought the Burkes were more… _accomplished_ than that!”

“It’s a low bar,” Rosier agreed lightly. “No offence, Eldon,” he added to Crabbe, sounding so sincere about it it came right around to mocking.

“Whatever,” Crabbe mumbled, seemingly determined to keep out of the conversation.

Eleanor couldn’t blame him, it was uncomfortable just _listening_ to it. She felt a little sorry for Crabbe, who had the misfortune of being very big for an eleven year old and none of the coordination to be confident in it.

Smith, the Muggleborn, had surreptitiously placed himself on the other side of the group from the boys and was very much trying not to draw attention to himself. She felt sorry for him, too.

She _didn’t_ feel sorry for Snape, who was following close behind and _trying_ to look like he was part of the group. The boy, when he opened his mouth, was just _unpleasant_.

“ _Boys_ ,” Selwyn — the spoiled brat from Eleanor’s dorm — huffed irritably, which was a mistake, because it drew Avery and Rosier’s collective attention to her, and they spent the rest of the walk up to the castle needling her about _her_ performance, which Eleanor hadn’t paid a lick of attention to, honestly.

Selwyn was _too annoying_ to waste her brain cells on.

Eleanor was just glad nobody was dragging _her_ into that conversation. She’d just stick with Zabini and otherwise keep to herself when it came to her House, thank you very much. _Maybe_ she’d make an exception for Patil, if she turned out to be alright, but so far the girl was cold and reserved to everyone.

She’d take that over Selwyn and her friend, Gamp, though, who thought being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families was way more special than it was. It was an exclusive club, yes, but it wasn’t a _small_ one. The Flints were also part of it.

That left Hannah Fiedler, the girl who had cried in the bathroom that first evening, who Eleanor had heard Selwyn call a Halfblood. She seemed like a nice girl, which was a shame, because Eleanor was by parental decree not allowed to associate with Halfbloods unless she absolutely had to.

At least she the girl seemed to have been absorbed into a rag-tag group of Slytherins of all ages who only had their less-than-pure blood status in common, from what Eleanor had picked up from more or less callous whispers.

Which was _good_. They were taken care of, not Eleanor’s problem, and she could ignore them just like everybody else of status seemed happy to do and not feel too guilty about it.

She sighed to herself.

“What is it?” Zabini asked her curiously, as they headed into the castle, all of them steering their steps in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

There was a while yet until dinner, and Eleanor, at least, wanted to clean up a bit after handling all that _dragon dung_. Supposedly, her robes were charmed to not take on any smells and her shoes were dirt-repellant, but the stink was _still_ stuck in her nose. And possibly her hair.

“Just thinking about the letter I’m supposed to write home,” Eleanor fibbed. It wasn’t really a _lie_ , she _was_ supposed to write home every week — kind of a lot, in her opinion, but fine, there was nothing wrong with her parents wanting to be included in her life! — and it _was_ supposed to give them an overview of her classmates. “So much has happened!” she added.

Zabini nodded. “Hogwarts is very interesting, too,” she mused. “I heard much about the castle before deciding to come. It’s exciting, no?” She smiled.

“Yes!” Eleanor bounced a little on her feet. “I’m definitely going to explore this weekend. And test out the school brooms. Do you want to come along?”

The other girl looked pleased. “On the exploring, yes,” she agreed. “I am curious about the castle.”

Eleanor grinned, already excited. Oh, she wanted to see the Owlery, and she could introduce Zabini to Harpy! And they’d go see the Library, and the Astronomy tower would definitely have the _most_ amazing view of the grounds!

She couldn’t wait!

-x-x-x-

Saturday morning - after two days of introductory classes where they hadn’t _done_ much of anything, really, but she supposed she had a better idea of what all the classes would cover now - was when Enid’s brothers finally decided to strike.

There weren’t any classes today, which she supposed made it make sense.

She was on her way into the Great Hall for breakfast when she was quite rudely ambushed.

“Got ya!” Gideon exclaimed, snatching her up from behind in something like a hug, lifting her off of her feet.

Seeing as he had two years in age and a bit more than a head in height on her, it was an effective method to keep her from going anywhere.

Enid bit back a squeak and felt her face redden at the attention they were attracting from the other students around, even as Gideon called for Fabian across the din of the breakfast crowd, seemingly unconcerned with what anyone else thought or felt about it.

“You’re eating with us today, Enid!” he added, directed at her, and started walking towards the Gryffindor table, which was incredibly awkward with her held to his chest, her legs dangling in front of his, but she didn’t try to protest.

She just waved a very awkward goodbye at Amelia, who was staring after them, looking unsure of how to take all of this, and tried not to draw further attention to herself.

Fabian popped into position beside them with a snicker. “We’ve been waiting for an hour,” he told her with a small grin. “Just to make sure we wouldn’t miss you.”

“Yeah,” Gideon agreed. “As you might remember, we got strict orders from Mum to look out for you, you know?”

Enid sighed, feeling somewhat resigned. “It’s school, not the wilds of Africa,” she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath.

Sure, it was a _magical_ school, but still. She was a First Year and she hadn’t even been here for a _week_.

What kind of trouble did they imagine she could possibly get up to in two days?

“I don’t know, I think Hogwarts might be as dangerous,” Fabian mused teasingly. “And that’s when you don’t take the Forbidden Forest and the magical creatures in there into consideration.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gideon snorted. “I bet Enid’s been living in the Library.”

Fabian laughed and didn’t try to disagree.

It was more or less true, but that was beside the point.

“They have a lot of really interesting books,” she muttered. The Transfiguration section _alone_ was enough to possibly cry a bit over, if you asked her, there were _so many books_. Most of which she had never seen before!

She’d read _about_ some of the books, and now she finally had a chance to read them for herself!

Her brothers both snorted and next she knew, she’d been put down on one of the benches by the Gryffindor table, with both of them taking seats on either side of her, boxing her in.

Enid looked between them with a small, exasperated frown.

From the way they were acting, you’d think she was some sort of escape artist.

“I know we teased you about Ravenclaw, but we really hoped you’d join us in Gryffindor, actually,” Gideon said, wasting no time in serving himself breakfast and nudging Enid with his elbow until she began to do the same. “But I guess Hufflepuff’s good, too. It suits you.”

“Yeah,” Fabian agreed. “You _are_ sort of hard working? In a weird way.” He shrugged. “You should expect a letter from Mum with the post today,” he continued, not waiting for a reply. “Seeing as you hadn’t sent them any when we got one yesterday.”

“You can’t expect too much, Fab, Enid’s never written a letter before,” Gideon piped in, speaking around a mouthful of toast.

Enid grimaced at him and took a large bite of her bacon, chewing rather pointedly and not saying anything in response.

She’d written letters before. Just maybe not as Enid. But it wasn’t like it was _difficult_.

She loved her brothers, but they were thirteen, immature at times, and despite having mostly good intentions, it showed.

It was still sort of nice to eat breakfast with them and soak up the familiar banter and chatter, all three of them ignoring the curious looks from the occasional Gryffindor around them, but no one seemed to be offended, or questioning what she was doing there.

Their relation was obvious enough.

She hadn’t even been at Hogwarts for a week, but Enid could remember from Before that Hufflepuffs weren’t the most well-respected. They seemed to be accepted in most places, though, from what she’d heard and noticed since she got here.

The post arrived, and there was - like Gideon had said - a letter for her, arriving with Morgan, their Dad’s very dignified great horned owl.

“Thank you,” Enid told her quietly, gave her a piece of her bacon and slowly opened the letter.

Morgan blinked fondly at her, or so she imagined, looked over Fabian and Gideon for a second, then spread her wings and launched herself back into the air again, joining the rest of the owls leaving the Great Hall, winging off back home.

Enid turned back to the letter and began to read.

_Dear Enid,_

_Congratulations on your Sorting! Rather unexpected, but I suppose Hufflepuff suits you better than Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs make for good friends. I hope your first week went well and that classes aren’t too overwhelming._

_From my own First Year, I remember that there was a lot to adjust to, but you can do it, don’t worry. It’s a challenge everyone goes through._

_Do you remember Clarus’ friend from work, Chadwick Boot? He’s got a niece in Hufflepuff, the year above you. Very sweet girl. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, and I know her uncle would encourage her to look out for younger students. If you’ve got any questions and don’t want to bother the Prefects, then you could approach her._

_Helping younger students settle in is something all older students are prepared for, and glad to help with._

_I hope your Transfigurations class was everything you hoped it to be. Or perhaps you haven’t had it yet? I know you were looking forward to it the most._

_Please write to let us know how you’re doing, dear, don’t spend all your time in the Library, remember to eat your dinners, and I miss you so much, Enid. The house has never felt so empty before._

_Stay safe, remember to write, and I’m already looking forward to the Winter Holidays when I’ll have you all back home again._

_I spoke to Molly just yesterday, and she sends her love. She’d love the occasional letter, too, my dear. Little William is doing well._

_Tell your brothers hello, much love,_

_Mum_

She’d barely finished reading when Fabian asked, “What did they say?”

She flicked her brother a look. “Mum says hi,” she said, folding the letter up and putting it in her book bag.

“That was all?” Gideon asked, but he looked vaguely amused. “It looked longer than just a sentence long, if you ask me.”

Enid rolled her eyes. “It was just a letter, she’s hoping I’m settling in nicely, nothing exciting. Molly says hi, William’s doing well. That sort of stuff. I’m off, I had things I wanted to do today,” she said, getting back to eating the last of her breakfast, sent her brothers a quick smile, and then got up and hurried off.

They hadn’t been back here for long, either, and she bet they, too, had things they wanted to do their very first weekend.

She could spend time with them later, when there wasn’t still a whole Library to explore and get familiar with!

She’d taken a quick look after classes the last two days, but she wanted to spend more time familiarising herself with the place. Go back to exploring the Transfiguration section and find the books McGonagall had suggested!

Get started on reading.

Enid grabbed a couple of apples from the end of the Hufflepuff table, as well as a bun, in case she missed lunch, waved another goodbye at Amelia, sitting a bit further down the table, then got going.

Today was going to be a good day, she knew it already!

Nothing scheduled all day and a whole Library to herself? Enid was going to read all the books she could possibly manage this year, and she was going to get started today.

-x-x-x-

Sunday afternoon, Eleanor finally had the opportunity to grab a school broom and go out on the grounds.

First years might not be allowed to bring their own brooms — bogus, if you asked her, why couldn’t they make a test of some sort that confirmed someone could fly? Like muggles did for swimming — but there was nothing in the rules that forbade them from flying entirely, and she wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the nice weather.

She was keeping _far_ away from where Avery, Rosier and Burke were playing a game of pickup Quidditch, though, that was for sure.

Her goal today was just to enjoy the beautiful landscape from above and see if there weren’t any fun nooks hidden among the castle’s rooftops.

Eleanor had been riding sport brooms since she was six. And before that, it’d been toy brooms.

The Flints prided themselves on their flying, and they personally sponsored a few professional teams. Had had some broommakers in the family, too, over the generations.

Which was pretty interesting, and Eleanor wondered if she shouldn’t look into a broom-related career. The thought of _making_ things appealed, and she loved flying.

It was sort of expected of her to go into duelling as a career, though, at least for a few years. Mother had said that they’d be starting lessons when Eleanor came home in the winter, now that she’d started her schooling and had her wand.

An _Aspen_ wand, no less.

Aspen wands were _renowned_ for their duelling capabilities. Both of Eleanor’s parents had been very pleased when it chose her.

Still, duelling alone wouldn’t be a career option for forever. Plus, if anything happened to cut it short, Eleanor needed something to fall back on.

She did want to be independent, earn her own money, once she was grown.

Those were all concerns for later, though. Right now, she was going to fly.

Eleanor swung her leg over the broom. It was an aged Silver Arrow. There’d been a few newer Cleansweeps in the shed, but one couldn’t go wrong with a Silver Arrow. They were very reliable brooms. One of her favourite toy brooms had been a Silver Arrow.

She missed her own broom, though, which was much faster.

At home, the hours of flying practice were her favourite time of the week. And in the air, Father loosened up a lot. He became almost _playful_ , if he was in a good mood. As if he left the constraints of politics and propriety down on the ground.

He liked flying as much as she did. It was her favourite way to spend time with Father.

Though she wasn’t sure if ‘like’ was the right word for how she felt about flying.

In the Before, she’d been afraid of heights. Not debilitatingly so, but she’d had a very healthy respect, and when she was up here, leagues above the ground with only wood and magic keeping her aloft, she felt the echoes of that fear, and knowing that she wouldn’t fall gave her such a thrill.

It was addicting.

She loved diving at the ground. Pulling up. Twisting herself through risky moves. Taking her hands off the broom and spreading her arms wide, pretending they were wings as she steered using her lower body only.

Eleanor laughed breathlessly.

Up in the air, nobody would see or hear it. There was no need to behave.

-x-x-x-

The whole weekend had somehow disappeared while Enid was busy in the Library and with her reading, and it’d been so nice. Unlimited access to all the books she could ever read.

The only reason she’d left at any reasonable hour in the evenings was because Madam Pince - the stern-looking librarian - ushered everyone out and locked the place up at night.

But all of a sudden, it was Monday and it was time to get back to classes.

Enid was probably not a very good witch, because she was halfway to the Great Hall before she realised she’d forgotten her wand.

“...go get it,” Amelia told her blankly, blinking at her.

“Right,” Enid breathed, and with a shallow nod at the girl, spun on her heel and ran back to their dorm, silently thankful it was so close.

The statue, Bafalda, watched her hurried approach and opened the doorway for her in time, so she didn’t even have to pause, and Enid burst into the common room, almost colliding with a couple of older students.

“Sorry!” she told them in passing, already heading to her dorm.

It took her an embarrassing few minutes of frantically searching her part of the room before she found the polished stick under her bed. Where it had most likely fallen off her nightstand table at some point. Somehow.

Had she knocked it down when she got up?

Enid knocked her forehead lightly against the wooden frame of her bed, before she got up with a heavy sigh, heart still racing in her chest, clutching the slim piece of polished wood to her chest for a second.

Okay, found it.

Then she stood up, put her wand in one of her robe pockets and headed back to the Great Hall.

She supposed it was lucky they’d left so early.

Enid soon enough sank down into the seat Amelia seemed to have saved for her, feeling her cheeks warm up at the looks her classmates sent her, but at least no one said anything.

Everyone was more occupied with eating breakfast.

Enid followed suit, and the moment she was done, pulled one of her Transfiguration books from her bag and spent the remainder of time before it was time to leave entirely engrossed in her reading.

She usually had a book within reach, and reading by the breakfast table was something she’d done at home almost every day for the last… three years? She wasn’t sure, and it didn’t really matter.

It made her feel strangely at home, even with all the people around.

Made it easier to block out all the noise, too.

Monday meant their first lesson was Potions, and seeing as none of them had ventured down into the dungeons yet, Enid, Amelia, Beth and Camilla all got an early start, and it seemed like the boys in their year had had the same thought, so they set off together in a small herd.

Enid slipped her book back into her book bag, patted her pocket to make sure her wand was still where it was supposed to be, and made sure to stick close to Amelia, who had approached the Fifth Year girl Prefect last night, to ask for directions to the Potions classroom.

She had a hand-drawn, rudimentary map.

It was actually pretty impressive, and the dungeon turned out to be confusing enough to navigate that Amelia’s foresight saved them a great deal of time and stress.

When they reached what they were pretty sure was the right spot, Enid wasted no time in pulling her book from her bag again. She only had five chapters left! And then she’d re-read it to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, and stuff.

“What are you reading about?” a voice piped up, disturbing her.

Enid looked up and blinked at… what had his name been again? He was the Muggleborn that had asked about Bafalda-the-statue, too.

Something on F? She was pretty sure.

She blinked again and shook her head a little, lowering the heavy book to rest her arms. “Transfiguration theory. I want to be an animagus,” she told him honestly.

“A what?”

“It’s a witch or wizard that can transform into an animal at will and still keep their human mind,” Amelia cut in hurriedly, looking a bit harried, even as she sent her a mildly apologetic look.

Enid smiled sheepishly at her, but nodded along. “Yeah. Exactly.”

There were a few interested noises and ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the Muggleborns, who had clearly never heard about it before.

“That sounds really neat!” the boy said - or had his name been Penn? - perking up with something like excitement. “That’s like McGonagall! How do you do it?”

Enid opened her mouth to tell him that was what she was trying to _find out_ , but Amelia beat her to it again.

“It’s really difficult and one of the most complicated skills a wizard or witch could learn,” Amelia told him seriously.

Enid shrugged but nodded when she got looks for that particular nugget from her fellow Hufflepuffs.

It was true enough, she supposed, if you squinted, but it wasn’t like she’d let that stop her!

The conversation continued and branched off into other subject matters, some nervous chatter about Potions, but seeing as no one was addressing her directly again, Enid went back to her book.

There was another ten minutes before she’d have to put it away.

She only noticed the door to the classroom had opened when Amelia elbowed her rather pointedly in the side, almost making her drop her book.

Heart in her throat, Enid just about caught it before it could hit the floor.

Before she could send her tentative new friend a reproachful look for almost making her drop her book, she was distracted by the snickers from the Ravenclaws that hadn’t walked in to take their seats yet.

Enid blinked at the blonde girl closest to her as she put her book away, turned to Amelia questioningly and let her pull her into the classroom by the arm.

Yes, almost dropping a book was apparently hilarious. You’d think Ravenclaws would be more concerned about books?

But she supposed all her classmates _were_ a bunch of eleven year olds.

Enid took in the classroom and cheered up, forgetting everything else, because she’d been looking forward to Potions, actually.

Not as much as Transfigurations, but if there was any subject other than Transfiguration that was _really_ interesting, it was Potions!

She’d been home all alone with her parents for the last two years, and once she’d run out of new books or Transfiguration magazines, last year had been spent reading through all the first year books Fabian and Gideon had left behind at home.

She’d read up on what had sounded the most interesting, to start with, and yeah, most of it had been basic and simple, mostly theoretical, but it had still been something to do.

Had made her look forward even more to her own First Year.

Enid had always loved books, even before she’d been Enid, and they’d been her trusty, constant companions in this life.

“Welcome, class!” the large, rather heavy-set wizard at the head of the room greeted them jovially, once everyone had taken their seats. “I’m Horace Slughorn, and I’ll be your Potions professor for the next few years.” He smiled fondly at them all, as if they were his favourite nieces and nephews, rather than students and his large, full, rather impressive moustache made him look like a walrus.

Enid, again sitting beside Amelia, listened attentively as Slughorn meandered his way into a lecture on ingredients, their preservation methods, preparations methods, and everything else involved.

It was really interesting, and he even gave demonstrations!

Yeah, she was sure she’d _definitely_ end up liking Potions a lot. It sounded a bit like baking! If with very strange ingredients.

The instructions were detailed and thorough and she bet it’d feel really satisfying to complete a potion step by step.

It seemed like fun!

After Potions, which had been a double hour, it was time for lunch, and the whole lot of them, both Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws headed up to the Great Hall, and Enid looked forward to it.

She was starving.

She had quite enough to read right now, but eventually, she’d definitely get around to look up Potions books for some extra reading.

Enid inhaled her lunch, and then grabbed her book, settling down between Amelia and Camilla to spend the remainder of lunch reading.

She only realised lunch was coming to a close when Camilla shook her gently by the shoulder.

Blinking around and the much more sparsely populated Great Hall, Enid hurriedly stood up and shoved her book back in her bag. “Sorry!”

Camilla shrugged. “We have all year to study, you know?”

“I know,” Enid muttered, and surreptitiously looked around for Amelia, wondering if she’d left already.

The girl was standing closer to the doors, talking to an older Hufflepuff boy who looked rather similar to her.

When they drew closer, she finished whatever conversation they were having to walk with them up to the third floor and the Charms classroom.

Thankfully, it was _much_ easier to find than the Potions classroom, and Enid quite happily settled down at one of the desks closest to the front, next to Amelia, and eyed the diminutive professor Flitwick with eager anticipation.

She remembered he was supposed to be really nice, and Charms was a very useful subject.

Last week had made it clear they most likely wouldn’t get to _do_ anything yet, but it was still really interesting!

Right before the lesson was about to start, a group of Gryffindor boys tumbled into the room amid laughter and giggling and swept to the back of the room like a whirlwind of gangly limbs and exuberant energy.

-x-x-x-

On Wednesday of the second week of school, Eleanor and Zabini left their dorm room to find a small crowd around the message board in the common room.

Now, standing on her tiptoes would be rather undignified. She wasn’t supposed to do it, she didn’t need an etiquette tutor to tell her that. Which only stopped her when she actually _remembered_ that she was supposed to act dignified.

“Can you see what everyone is so excited about?” she asked Zabini, who was fairly tall for an eleven year old.

Didn’t change she was still only an eleven year old girl, but she had better chances at seeing anything than Eleanor, who unlike her brother looked to have inherited her mother’s height.

“I’ll ask,” Zabini answered, and then dove into the crowd to speak with a boy who bore a passing resemblance to her, if she squinted. When she returned, it was with the words, “It’s about Quidditch… trials? Is that the word?”

“Close. Tryouts,” Eleanor answered, her heart skipping a beat in excitement, despite knowing that just like bringing their own brooms, First years couldn’t be on the Quidditch team unless there were children’s book plot reasons. “Thank you. Do you know when they are?”

She could at least watch so that she’d know what to expect next year, when she _could_ try to get on the team.

In theory.

Listening to the talk, the Slytherin team didn’t often take female players. Eleanor didn’t know why, but for some reason in most of the older families, flying was regarded as a masculine sport.

The Flints were an exception, thankfully.

Either way, Eleanor _would_ be on the team next year. With a proper broom.

Father might even buy her a new one when she made the team! Not that there was anything wrong with her old one, but! She’d never turn down a _new broom!_ Both the new Cleansweep and the next generation of Comets were supposed to be released next spring!

Eleanor and Zabini made their way out of the common room and upstairs to breakfast. They were early, so they would have ample time to find the classroom for their first lesson in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was on the sixth floor, and neither of them had had time to get familiar with the upper levels of the castle just yet.

The dungeons were enough of a challenge. It was lucky Zabini had a good sense of direction, because without her, Eleanor would have gotten lost on a daily basis.

Big buildings were _so_ difficult to navigate. Eleanor really needed to get more familiar with Hogwarts.

“Do you look forward to Defence?” Zabini asked as they trudged up the stairs. “Oh, Circe help me, why is it on _sixth_ floor? These many stairs will kill me.”

“Tentatively,” Eleanor answered, not as winded as the other girl. Still, climbing to the sixth floor was making her legs hurt. “I want to learn duelling, so it relates to my interests. Hopefully, the teacher will be engaging.”

“Ah. This is the lesson where the teacher changes often?” Zabini snapped her fingers in realisation. “Why is that?”

“Nobody seems to know.” Eleanor frowned and tried to remember if the Books had ever offered an explanation. It was futile, though. She couldn’t recall anything concrete.

Was it to do with Snape? There was something about Defence and Snape, she was fairly sure.

Though looking at her skinny classmate, you wouldn’t suspect it. He looked rather bleak and unimpressive, even by eleven year old standards.

“Hogwarts is strange,” Zabini commented with a huff. “Ah, finally!”

They’d reached the sixth floor.

...where were they supposed to go next? Eleanor looked around.

No convenient, helpful signs or arrows pointing to the Defence classroom to be seen.

Zabini sank down. “I must sit,” she declared.

“Perhaps don’t do it on the _stairs_?” Eleanor pointed out. The rest of their classmates would presumably be coming this way any minute.

Her first and only friend so far — at least Eleanor was sure that they were friends, after the deal they’d made in Potions — scooted backwards until she was sitting next to the stairs, rather than on them. She didn’t look to be moving anytime soon.

“I’ll try to find the classroom,” she offered. “You can rest and catch your breath.”

Zabini grunted an agreement.

Eleanor suspected she didn’t do much sports, if any. Though wait, she’d mentioned riding winged horses, when they’d explored on the weekend.

Two or three corridors later, she was lost. They all looked the same! Why was Hogwarts so big, anyway? It was the worst!

Was this why that map in the books had existed? Because _someone_ had had the sense to make one? Had they gotten lost one too many times and decided they were sick of it?

Eleanor sure was, and it was only the first time she’d gotten lost.

Where was she, anyway?

So much for wanting to find that room she’d read about, the one that turned into whatever place you wanted. At this rate, she’d be searching for her classrooms until the end of the year.

“Are you a first year, dear?” one of the portraits asked her, and she might have walked past it more than once.

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “I’m looking for the Defence classroom.”

And the way back to Zabini.

“Right, right,” the venerable old wizard nodded and pushed his spectacles higher up on his potato-like nose. He’d been painted as some sort of scholar. “Down this hall, then two lefts,” he instructed her with a kind smile.

“Thank you very much,” she answered with palpable relief.

She wouldn’t have thought to ask the portraits. The ones at home weren’t particularly inclined to help anyone.

 _Down the hall and two lefts, down the hall and two lefts_ , she chanted in her head, lest she forget or confuse left and right.

There it was! The door was open, and she could just see someone’s robe disappearing inside.

Now she only had to find the stairs and Zabini and lead her back here. Without getting lost again.

Eleanor headed in the direction the students who’d gone into the classroom must have come from. Surely, it couldn’t be _too_ difficult. She’d simply stick with the big hallways and they had to lead her to the stairwell _eventually_.

She did find a stairwell two minutes later.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one she’d left Zabini at.

What was _wrong_ with this stupid castle?! Sighing exasperatedly, Eleanor headed back to the classroom. At least she’d gone in a straight line, she’d find it again.

She was moving past an intersection when a grey blur raced into her field of vision, heading right for her feet, and Eleanor very hurriedly had to avoid trying to step on the cat and not fall over all at the same time.

The feline in question turned to look at her, tail held aloft and entirely unrepentant, eyeing her like _she_ had just tried to trip _it_ , before turning to trot off on whatever business a cat had in here.

Eleanor, meanwhile, was doing her best to process the _very_ sudden adrenaline rush. “Dick,” she hissed after the cat. Quietly.

It was definitely not a word a lady should be dropping, even to an asshole of a cat, that was admittedly extremely cute with a ridiculously fluffy tail.

 _So_ fluffy.

Eleanor had always wanted a cat, a _nice_ cat, but she’d never brought it up with her parents and had ended up being given an owl instead.

She did like Harpy, but he was neither soft nor had fur, and he certainly didn’t meow. Or purr.

He _did_ enjoy the occasional petting session, though. He was also bribable. And wouldn’t _trip_ her.

Maybe they could go flying together on the weekend. That’d be nice.

No, wait, she’d be sending him with a letter to her parents.

Remembering that she was still at school, Eleanor glanced at her watch.

“Oh, _bollocks_ ,” she hissed — quietly, of course.

Defence class had started a minute ago.

If her parents heard she’d been late-

Eleanor turned and ran down the hall, not caring about the indignity, or if anyone saw her.

-x-x-x-

Classes were overall really interesting - Defence had been a bit of a let-down, Professor Daubny seemed incredibly dull, and she’d mostly talked about everything they _wouldn’t_ be learning this year - but once Wednesday came around again and it’d been a whole week, Enid had an incredibly jarring realisation.

“Shit,” she said, sitting in her bed that evening, hands fisting her bed covers.

“What?” Amelia asked, sitting on the bed next to hers, looking up from her book to frown at her. It might also have something to do with her word of choice, but Enid was too caught up in her realisation to care.

“What is it, Enid?” Beth asked, sitting on the floor with Camilla, playing exploding snap.

“I’ve forgotten to do the homework,” Enid said faintly.

“...which one?” Amelia asked, frown fading away to blink owlishly at her.

Enid coughed softly and did her best to sink through the mattress of her bed. “Um. All of them?” she offered awkwardly.

It didn’t make her feel better that all three girls were staring at her with incredulous disbelief.

“What?” Camilla asked slowly. “But you’re studying all the time.” And she wrinkled her nose slightly, as if she couldn’t imagine ever doing that herself.

Enid groaned and flopped over, dragging her pillow over her face. She _did_ study almost all the time, and she’d read up on the things they’d covered in _some_ of her classes - Potions and Charms, mostly - but she hadn’t… they’d had essays, hadn’t they? And she hadn’t written any of them.

She’d completely forgotten.

Enid took a deep breath.

Okay. Okay, she could still salvage this.

Enid sat up properly again, still taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to think.

The Transfiguration essay would be quick and easy, the Potions one would be, too, she was pretty sure. She’d already read about most the ingredients Slughorn had lectured about and then some. Their magical properties were _fascinating_ , and magical animals were interesting on their own.

That left Charms, History and Herbology. And Astronomy.

And Defence.

It was… doable. Maybe.

If she got up early tomorrow and got started, she could write another one during lunch, and then finish up after school was done.

It’d be rushed, and far from the best she could do, but it’d hopefully give her something to hand in, at least.

Nodding to herself, expression clearing, Enid blinked at her roommates and then mournfully put her book away - she’d started it just this morning - to get some sleep.

She’d be getting up early tomorrow morning, so it was better that way. She could survive putting her personal reading on hold for two days.

Even though it sucked and would be _really distracting_.

Actually, on second thought.

“Amelia? Can you hold on to this for me until Friday?” she asked awkwardly, picking the book up and holding it out towards the girl.

“You’re seriously hopeless,” Amelia told her, but took the book and went to stuff it into her trunk. “Do you remember all the essay subjects?” she asked when she was done. “This is why you’re supposed to _take notes_ , Enid.”

Enid grimaced. “Yeah, I know, but- Um, would you mind writing them down for me?” she asked hesitantly, already feeling terrible.

Amelia didn’t exactly look impressed with her, but nonetheless wrote her a list of the subject matters in question, then added how long the essays were supposed to be. “Here,” she huffed, holding it out to her.

“Thank you, Amelia,” she said, and she meant it. She’d try to make it up to her, too. “I should go to bed. Good night, everyone,” Enid bid them, and after putting the note on her nightstand table under her wand, went to brush her teeth and get changed.

As soon as she was done, she pulled the curtains around her bed shut and did her best to fall asleep quickly.

The next morning, she wrote her Transfiguration essay while eating breakfast. She was just writing down a few, general facts about McGonagall’s assigned subject - organic to metallic transfiguration - so it didn’t take more than ten minutes, and she hoped she hadn’t missed anything obvious.

Which was one down! And she’d have time to finish the Potions one before classes, too!

Amelia didn’t comment about all the space her books were taking up on the table, though Beth and Camilla both eyed her sort of incredulously.

A couple of the boys - Charles Booth and Ovidious Scriven, she was pretty sure; Beth had been talking and giggling about both of them enough remembering their names wouldn’t be a problem - snickered at her.

It was only when she was already sitting in the Charms classroom, absently looking through her pockets, that she realised a very serious problem.

She… couldn’t find her wand.

 _How_ could this day get any worse?

Enid stared into her book bag, futilely hoping she’d put it there instead of a pocket, and then went through it again, only more slowly, this time. And then checked over her pockets one more time, too.

She couldn’t find it anywhere.

Hadn’t she… grabbed her wand together with the note Amelia had written her?

She’d grabbed the list with essay subjects when she got up, which had been lying underneath her wand, so she’d definitely handled her wand when she woke up.

But seeing as she didn’t have it on her, and it wasn’t in her bag, that still meant Enid must have left her wand in her dorm room. Or somewhere else.

Had she had it in the Great Hall?

...fuck.

This was not just a disaster, it was also incredibly embarrassing.

“Did you forget something?” Amelia asked her quietly, and Enid looked up to stare at her with wide eyes. “What? I’ve got extra of most things.”

Amelia was really nice, even after this whole homework fiasco, she was sticking with her. Letting her sit with her.

Enid was _really_ glad they were getting along so well, and she could only hope Amelia still wanted to be her friend even after all that was going wrong today.

“Um, thank you, but that won’t help,” she admitted uncomfortably. “I forgot my wand.”

Amelia nodded and then paused. “Your wand.”

“Yeah.”

“...again?”

“At least I remembered it in time, last week,” Enid muttered and tried to think of any way out of this that wouldn’t make her a laughing stock among her peers. She couldn’t think of anything, though.

Maybe they wouldn’t start on any spells today? It might just be another theoretical class.

As if the world was mocking her, Flitwick climbed onto the stack of books piled on his stool and got their collective attention.

“Wands out and at the ready today, students!” he said, voice cheerful and squeaky and crushing her tentative hope quite effectively.

Damn it.

Taking a deep breath, Enid straightened her back and slowly raised her hand, even as she’d rather sink through the floor more than anything else.

“Yes, Miss Prewett?” Professor Flitwick asked, peering curiously at her from where he was standing, clearly ready to get started.

“Uh, professor, I have a problem with today’s lesson,” she muttered, sinking down in her seat a little when most of the students turned to eye her curiously.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. What is it, dear?”

“I- uh, I forgot my wand,” she admitted quietly, face hot and already bracing herself.

There were a few snorts and definitely some laughter, and even Flitwick looked faintly amused.

“Not the first time it’s happened, Miss Prewett, just make sure to practice the charm we’re about to cover this evening instead, and do your best not to do it again,” he told her with a nod, acting like it wasn’t anything special, which she definitely appreciated. “Now!” he continued, and launched straight into his lecture, leaving the students to scramble to get out parchment and quill to take notes.

It made sure no one had time to comment on her, and she felt almost ridiculously grateful.

Enid exhaled softly and let most of the tension bleed out of her with her breath.

Okay, she could work with this. Not like she had a choice, but it wasn’t the end of the world. She kept telling herself.

She’d just go to the dorm first opportunity and find her wand.

Nodding to herself, she settled down to listen.

-x-x-x-

Eleanor wasn’t the only one to watch the Quidditch tryouts. There were several other Slytherins in the stands, some even with binoculars.

“Isn’t that the Potter heir up there?” Zabini asked, pointing a finger delicately at a section of the stands.

Zabini’s nails were always painted. Sometimes even with little flowers or animals that moved. Today was just sparkles, though.

Eleanor really wanted nails like that, they were so pretty. She kept her own very short, though, so there wasn’t much room on them to paint anything elaborate.

She followed the direction she’d pointed. “And the Black heir,” she confirmed neutrally.

Why nobody had kicked the two Gryffindors out, she didn’t know.

Well, the tryouts _were_ public. Still, two Gryffindor First Years had no business spying on them, or whatever they thought they were doing.

“Oh my,” Zabini giggled, and Eleanor for the life of her didn’t know what she was thinking. “Perhaps they’d like company?”

“No!” Eleanor said quickly. “That’s- let’s sit here instead.”

Zabini blinked at her.

Eleanor must have spoken too vehemently. “Father doesn’t like the Potters,” she admitted stiffly, and it was the mother of all understatements.

She didn’t know the details, but Father and Fleamont Potter (nowadays _Lord_ Potter) had gone to school together and constantly clashed. Whenever a Potter was mentioned in the newspaper, Father _always_ ranted about it. It was scary when he got like that.

The worst had been when Potter’s ascent to Lordship was announced, following the tragic demise of his father.

“Let’s sit here,” she repeated uncomfortably.

Zabini sighed regretfully. “I suppose I can appreciate them from afar. They’re both very cute.”

“...if you say so,” Eleanor muttered, because agreeing out loud was sure to get her in trouble _somehow._ In some way.

“Yes!” Zabini grinned at her. “And they do well in classes, too.”

Feeling very awkward, Eleanor smiled back without offering a comment. They’d likely had tutors, just like her and so many other Purebloods. And she supposed they were bright enough.

She was fairly sure that Zabini was considering these things for different reasons than Eleanor, though.

Of course, it made sense. Marriage _was_ important for witches of their station. It was just what they were taught, growing up.

Eleanor herself didn’t really think much about it. _She_ knew she wasn’t going to marry someone her family had picked for her. Her life partner would be her own choice, despite what was expected of her.

It certainly wasn’t going to be anyone of the Black family. That was the _last_ family she wanted to be part of. She’d keep an eye on Sirius’ behaviour, since Father had asked, but nothing more than that.

After his Sorting, she wasn’t supposed to interact, anyway, until things were clearer. To hear other Slytherins talk about it, there was a very real chance that Walburga and Orion Black would disown the boy for his Sorting, which sounded far too extreme a reaction to Eleanor, but there hadn’t been a Black who _wasn’t_ Slytherin for centuries. It was probably some sort of superstition.

Not her business, she decided. At least, not today.

The weather was nice today, sunshine, pleasant temperature, and hardly any wind, even as the leaves were turning red and yellow. There _was_ a hint of chill in the air, and she reminded herself to look up a warming charm.

Right this moment, though, she’d enjoy the sunshine and case out her eventual competition or teammates.

“Which position do you play?” Zabini asked curiously, absently sucking in a breath when a boy flew into one of the goal posts. Eleanor could hear Potter and Black laughing.

“Beater,” she answered.

There was a pause. “That’s… unusual,” Zabini said delicately.

“Yep!” Eleanor agreed cheerfully. “My brother gave me a Beater’s bat when I was seven-” Because she absolutely _sucked_ at both catching and throwing balls, and Beater was the only position that didn’t require it. “And then I wouldn’t let anyone take it away again.”

The small her had been very enthusiastic about having a _weapon._

“I have a feeling this will be a rather interesting friendship, between you and I,” Zabini laughed.

Interesting was one word for it. Zabini was a lovely girl. Nothing like the other Pureblooded girls sharing their dorm with her.

She was perhaps a little bit weird, but not in a bad way.

Or maybe Eleanor’s own perception was skewed and _she_ was the weird one.

Did it matter? Not really. She liked the girl, her parents had been happy to hear she’d made a tentative friend, and of all their classmates, Zabini was the nicest one. So she said, “Then by all means, Zabini, call me Eleanor.”

Zabini beamed at her.“Then you must absolutely call me Graziella in return!”

Eleanor grinned back, the other girl’s smile too infectious not to.

Clearly pleased, Zabini — Graziella — hooked their arms together, and they continued watching the tryouts. Looking mildly interested when a brawl broke out between the prospective Keepers. “How uncouth,” she giggled.

“Quite,” Eleanor agreed, heart beating quickly and her cheeks were hot because their _arms were linked_. Was it this easy to make friends? “One would think they’d use magic. This is disgraceful.”

“But rather entertaining,” Zabini chirped. “If they veer just a little to the right, they’ll pull one of the Chasers into it, don’t you think?”

“That would be rather amusing, but not as much as if it were the Beaters.” Eleanor tilted her head in consideration. “And here comes the captain.”

“Ah, just when it was getting to the good part,” Zabini sighed disappointedly.

Eleanor huffed, vaguely amused, but also somewhat concerned about the health of everyone involved in the brawl. “Captain looks rather disappointed, too.”

“Sure waited a good while to enjoy the show,” the girl snickered.

That he did.

Physical violence in Quidditch wasn’t exactly _encouraged_ , but it wasn’t _not_ encouraged, either. It depended largely on the team, and the strategy, and the timing. A well-timed elbow to the face could win a game — she’d actually seen it happen in the match between the Chudley Cannons and the Montrose Magpies, two years ago.

It had been a crushing defeat for the Chudley Cannons. Which everyone had seen coming, kind of, though not by way of an elbow.

Eleanor eyed the Beaters on the field. It was fairly obvious that the captain would not be accepting new Beaters into the team this year. The ones from last year’s roster were very obviously the most skilled, and seemed to be on friendly terms with the captain as well.

Hm, but one of them, Euan Llewellyn, was a Seventh year, which meant one Beater spot would be open next year for sure. And it was going to be Eleanor’s.

The remaining Beater was Fourth Year Benjamin Prince, and she found herself watching him closely, and eventually taking out parchment and quill.

“You are… taking notes?” Graziella sounded more than a little befuddled and incredulous. “On Quidditch?”

“I’m not leaving getting on the team next year to _chance_ ,” Eleanor replied determinedly. “I’m small and a girl, I’m already at a disadvantage.”

She’d study Prince’s flying and the team’s strategies and manoeuvres in general, and she’d practice as much as she could. And by next year, she’d be as ready and able to keep up with them and match her flying to her future Beater counterpart as she could be.

“That is, how do you say, _dedication_ ,” Graziella commented, blinking down at Eleanor’s notes. “Why does it say _coaxing?_ ”

“It’s when a Beater flies close to a bludger to bait the Homing Charms so that it follows them instead of their original target,” Eleanor explained absently, staring up at the flyers on the pitch. “See, Llewellyn keeps doing it and bringing the bludgers over to Prince that way, who’ll then aim them somewhere else.”

Prince had an excellent swing and precise aim, she noted. Their strategy clearly played to his strength.

She’d have to write home to ask Father to send her practice bludgers so she could practice.

Surely the kind used for training beginners would be allowed by the school rules? As far as she remembered, the only forbidden Quidditch gear were brooms themselves.

Which still made no sense, since it forced First years to use unfamiliar brooms for practice. It was a stupid rule!

Okay, it wasn’t. When a student took a school broom, their name was registered, and the school broom’s location could also be tracked. So if an untrained First year practiced on their own and got in trouble, they could be found relatively quickly.

Theoretically.

 _Still_. Eleanor missed her broom!

“Why not hit the bludger at him?” Graziella asked, frowning.

“Because it takes physical force to overcome the homing charms, and it’d get really exhausting to keep wrangling bludgers,” she answered, quietly proud of herself for knowing the answer to a question. “Games can take hours, even days.”

“Quidditch is strange.”

“It’s _fun_ ,” Eleanor insisted determinedly. “It’s complex, challenging and interesting, and exciting, and-”

Okay, she’d privately admit that it was a little strange.

But that didn’t stop her from doing her utmost to convince her new friend just how _wonderful_ a game it was at the same time.

-x-x-x-

Enid sighed heavily and sank down into a seat by what was quickly becoming her favourite table in the Library.

She’d survived the week. Barely.

She’d also handed in all her essays, though her History one hadn’t been very good, or so Amelia had told her when she’d read if over for her.

Whatever, she’d handed something in.

She’d somehow managed to miss the essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite Amelia’s list, which had lost her ten points for Hufflepuff.

That had been pretty terrible, and more than one of her classmates had laughed.

At least it was behind her now, and she’d gotten her book back from Amelia.

But yeah, she was definitely not doing _that_ again. Enid would go out of her way to do her essays in a timely fashion from now on and do her best to remember, that was for sure.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn’t notice someone had already been sitting by her table of choice until she sat up properly and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted, mostly out of surprise, blinking at the boy. He was wearing second-hand robes and she was pretty sure he was in her year. His tie placed him in Gryffindor. “I’m Enid,” she added awkwardly, when he did nothing but stare at her.

He looked about as tired as Enid felt.

“Hi. I’m Remus. You’re the Prewett twins’ sister,” he returned after a stretching pause.

“Yeah,” she agreed. There was an awkward pause, where they stared at the other. That name _definitely_ sounded familiar. “What are you reading?” Enid asked, even as she wondered if she should find another table.

The boy blinked and glanced down at the book that lay open on the table in front of him. “ _A Treatise on Magical Beasts_ ,” he said slowly. “By Damocles Rowle.”

“Is it any good?” Enid hadn’t read much about magical creatures and animals, herself. She’d mostly just leafed through books when she’d been bored and looked at the pretty pictures.

Tried to draw some of them as accurately as she’d been able.

“It’s… pretty outdated. It’s from the 1700s, and Damocles was a pretty terrible wizard,” the boy - Remus - said seriously. “But it’s got some interesting points.”

Huh.

“Do you like magical creatures, then?” she asked curiously, even as she pulled her wonderful Transfigurations book from her bag, opening to the page she’d been on before this terrible week had started.

“Yeah, they’re interesting.”

Wait.

Enid looked up and flicked the boy another look, took in his sandy hair and brown eyes. His name was Remus. Remus Lupin, wasn’t it?

Oh.

 _Oh_. He was one of the- And he was a werewolf, wasn’t he? That must be the reason he looked so tired! Because of the full moon. Probably.

Right?

Enid could honestly say she didn’t know much about werewolves. If it had ever come up in conversation at home, it hadn’t been when she was around.

...when had the full moon been? Or was it approaching?

Enid realised she had no idea.

With a mental shrug, Enid pushed the issue away from her, because it didn’t really matter and her thoughts were just running in circles.

She was probably too tired for this.

“It _does_ sound interesting,” she said, smiling tentatively at him, because if what she remembered about him was true, then she supposed both of them could do with some friendliness. “I’m mostly interested in Transfiguration, myself.”

“It seems rather complicated,” he offered, looking awkward.

Enid shrugged. “Not really, once you get most of the basics down and figure out the main structures involved,” she mused, tapping the parchment under her fingers absently. “It’s pretty straightforward, I think. At least until you reach the more complicated stuff, which is much more magically demanding, and that’s not even talking about things like _permanent_ transfigurations. Most people never learn how to do that, though, so it won’t be an issue in class.” She paused and considered it. “What I love the most about Transfiguration is that it relies on a vivid imagination, though most books won’t phrase it like that, which is weird.” She blinked and focused back on the present to find Remus staring at her. Enid smiled self-consciously and determinedly turned to her book.

She’d been waiting to get back to reading it for _days_.

Talking to people about Transfiguration was still a novelty, but that didn’t mean she could just do it to _everyone_ who showed any hint of interest.

Absently kicking off her shoes and folding her legs up in her chair, Enid made herself comfortable and began to read.

“...is that allowed?” Remus asked quietly, and it sounded like he was talking to himself.

Enid smiled, but didn’t look up from the words on the page. “Don’t see why it wouldn’t be. As far as I can tell, Pince only cares about two things,” she held up her fingers, “the care of her books, and the care of her Library. Don’t damage the books and don’t disturb the peace, and you should be fine,” she told him easily.

Her taking off her shoes didn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh.”

They spent the next few hours reading in silence, and by the time Madam Pince was walking the rounds to send all the students out for the night, she got up and the moment she’d stepped outside the impressive doors, she grabbed one of the apples she’d brought with her from the Great Hall earlier, and then paused. Grabbed the other one and tentatively offered it to the boy who had shared her table with her.

He’d ended up walking more or less beside her.

He blinked owlishly at her for a long second before he slowly reached out to take it, looking like he wasn’t sure what her aim was.

She just bit into her apple and started walking in the direction of the closest stairwell.

She sent a faint smile at Remus when he tentatively copied her and bit into his own apple, setting into motion to keep pace with her.

School so far sure had been very... interesting, and she couldn’t claim she’d had a good week. But, it hadn’t all been bad, and with the exception of homework, she still loved everything about being here.

But still, weekends were great.

-x-x-x-

The next week, Eleanor stayed behind after Charms class. “Professor Flitwick? I had a question,” she spoke up.

She didn’t _really_ want to do this, but Mother had told her to make Flitwick aware of her in her last letter, so… here she was.

The diminutive man was climbing down from his stack of books. “Yes, of course, Miss Flint, ask away!”

“I intend to learn duelling and compete professionally,” she answered. “And seeing your experience in the field, I was hoping you might have some advice for me.”

“Duelling, oh my.” Flitwick eyed her keenly. “I would recommend you arrange for tutoring, then.”

“My family has made arrangements, I’ll be starting during the Christmas holidays.”

And then she’d likely be training the whole summer after this school year, too, and every holiday until she graduated. Mother didn’t do things by half.

This morning, Eleanor had received a Duelling guide in the post, with notes in her mother’s hand in the margins.

The minimum age to enter the Duelling circuit was thirteen, so she still had a few years’ time to train and prepare.

“Hm.” The man considered her. “I would advise you not to expect instant wins. And that you don’t let losses discourage you. Other than that, train to your strengths. Duelling is a very broad field! And a very respectable sport, if I do say so myself.”

Eleanor nodded. “Thank you for the advice, sir.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Flint!” Flitwick told her cheerfully. “If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to ask. And I’ll be looking forward to seeing you join the Duelling club in Third Year, if you don’t change your mind.”

“Thank you, again.” She smiled at him.

This was why she liked Flitwick best of all the teachers so far. He was always happy to help and never made a student feel stupid or incapable.

“A small, additional word of advice, Miss Flint?” he continued, smiling kindly at her. “If you don’t mind?” He only continued when she nodded. “Remember that, at your current age, resting is very important, and there’s no need to rush. The holidays are there for you to rest, body, magic and mind, and to have fun, so do your best not to overdo it. You still have a couple of years before you can compete.”

Eleanor nodded. “Of course. I’ll keep it in mind, thank you.”

It wasn’t like she could do much right now, anyway, except keep in shape. Maybe she should take up jogging?

She was in pretty good shape, for her age, but all she’d done was flying and some strength training for Beaters. It’d be good to do something for other muscle groups.

She bid Flitwick goodbye and left the classroom, still ruminating over the matter, but surfaced when she found Zabini waiting for her.

“Oh,” she said. “You didn’t have to, Za- I mean, Graziella.”

Graziella huffed amusedly. “Yes, I do. You’ll get lost again without me, Eleanor.”

“That was _one time_.”

The girl looked even more amused. “Keep telling yourself so.” She linked their arms together. “If I do not watch, you will be lost. They will find you in ten years, adopted by a family of cats.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Eleanor mused.

She liked cats _a lot_.

“You would be living on... “ Zabini frowned. “Very little food.”

“Scraps?” she asked.

Graziella snapped her fingers. “Yes! Scraps. That.”

“I suppose,” Eleanor sighed. “I do like eating good food. Then it seems I must stay with you. Or acquire a map of some sort.”

“A map!” The girl snapped her fingers again. She was rather fond of doing it, and quite good at it, too. When Eleanor snapped her fingers, it only worked half the time. “That is good idea.”

“Are you good at drawing?” she asked hopefully.

There were probably mapping spells and such, but those had to be _way_ too advanced to cast at her level. She hadn’t even managed the warming charm consistently yet, and she didn’t want to have to wait until third or fourth year to acquire a map.

“I have taken lessons since I was five!” Zabini told her cheerfully.

“That’s impressive. Would you please help me map the castle, Graziella?”

“It would be an interesting project.” The girl smiled. “I will love to.”

Eleanor positively beamed at her, which Aunt Hel would have chastised her for sharply — don’t show your teeth when you smile, Eleanor! —but she couldn’t help it. She was _excited_!

“I will also ensure you do not get lost while we map,” Zabini added, and apparently she was _never_ going to let it go.

“One time,” Eleanor muttered anyway.

Nevermind that she currently had no idea where they were. Graziella was leading the way.

“You will be safe from cats, too.”

She sighed. “That’s very kind of you.”

Graziella hummed cheerfully, and they went on their way together.


End file.
